


Aplomb

by FivePips



Series: Soutenu [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Angst, Anorexia, Ballet, Drama, Eating Disorders, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Relapse, Romance, TW: Drugs, TW: Eating Disorder, The Royal Ballet, ballet!lock, dance, dancer!lock, tw: rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 48,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FivePips/pseuds/FivePips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is a new physiotherapist for the Royal Ballet and Sherlock Holmes is a Principal Dancer.</p><p>Aplomb refers to stability of the position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unieme

**Author's Note:**

> This came about after I saw a work of fanart on tumblr. I forget who did it or what exactly it looks like but it planted a seed in my brain that there needed to be an AU where Sherlock is a dancer. I couldn’t find anything I wanted with dancer!lock (I don’t know but I have a hard time with John being a dancer for some reason and even out of those I could only find a few) so I decided to write it myself.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unieme means to begin.

John arrived at Covent Garden five minutes later than he had meant to. Being late on his first day of work was probably not the greatest thing but there was some delay with the Tube. He would have made it earlier if it were not for his bloody leg. It was his first day of a civilian job since the time he worked at the coffee house back in Uni about ten years ago. At least getting up was not a struggle but the idea of doing the same thing everyday without any threat of gunfire seemed a bit daunting. Not only that but he was going to be dealing with prima ballerinas and other stuck up twats, no doubt.  
  
He pushed through the front doors of the school and he was met with the sight of the first studio where a group of dancers were being yelled out by what had to be their teacher… or whatever they’re called. John was sure she as intimidating as a drill instructor. There was one person who was not interested in what the woman was saying, standing off to the side and obviously looking at the wall, not the teacher. He was all legs and strong arms and cheekbones and pouty lips. His eyes were an unearthly blue-green and his hair was a mass of unruly dark brown curls. John was struck with how unconventionally handsome the man was.  
  
Of course the dancer noticed his staring. He quickly averted his eyes and went to look for where he was supposed to be.  
  
John finally found his way to the physiotherapy suite where a tired looking man with grey hair greeted him. “Greg Lestrade, you’re Watson?”  
  
“John’s fine.” He nodded, shaking Lestrade’s hand. “Sorry I’m late.”  
  
“Not a problem, mate. I got all setup just fine and you made it before the royal pains in my arse trotted in here.” He chuckled as John took a look around the suite. There were all the usual things you’d expect to see like tables, bikes, baths, ect.. “Mike recommended you with flying colors.”  
  
“I’m glad he did. I was happy to hear you wanted to give me a chance, I’ve been out of it for so long.” John rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean I did some classes when I came back but I haven’t practiced…” John figured he should shut up before he went on any longer.  
  
“You’ve got the stuff, mate. Plus if I see you makin’ mistakes I can fire you, so no worries.” Greg laughed.  
  
“Is there anything that I should know about?”  
  
“Molly and Dimmock come in, in another hour so you’ll meet them then. They primarily work with the school while we’re primarily working with the main company. The director is Martha Hudson and she’s always around here, checking in on her dancers. You’ll like her, sweet lady. Most of the company’s all right. There are a few who give me headaches.”  
  
“And those ones would be?”  
  
“Probably the ones coming in right now.” Lestrade pointed towards the door with a smirk.  
  
“… not my fault you’re just a fork lift with no real bloody technique!” A woman with an American accent shouted.  
  
“Please do not talk to me like that, Donovan. You can not order us around in the studio, unless you’ve suddenly turned into Madame Boucher or Hudson.” A much lower British voice said and as the footsteps came around the corner.  
  
There was the tall man with curly hair that had caught his eye earlier. Behind him was the woman who had been yelling along with a man with a face that looked at if he had sucked on a lemon and another woman who carried herself has if she was royalty.  
  
“You’re a Character Artist and I am a Principal Dancer, there’s a difference. I had far more difficult choreography our last production than you did. Anderson, however, is a forklift.”  
  
“Bugger off, I am not a forklift.”  
  
“You three grate my nerves.” The tall brunette woman glanced at her nails. “Sherlock, love, shut your gob and stop driving them on.” She said as if exhausted.  
  
The tall man, Sherlock apparently, jumped on top of the table that John was closest to. He could feel Sherlock’s eyes on him, like he was prying into his brain.  
  
“How was the meeting this morning?” Greg asked, turning the taps on one of the baths. “Sounds like you’ve had a lovely time.’  
  
“Donovan believes she’s the new resident choreographer but that’s nothing new, is it?” Sherlock complained to him.

John walked closer to the table Sherlock was on to ask what he needed but was interuppted, “Was it Afghanistan or Iraq?”  
  
“What?” He didn't realize he was so obvious.  
  
“Sherlock Holmes, don’t terrorize the new bloke. Irene,” Lestrade said and turned to the tall brunette who was stretching on the floor while the other two were sitting on another table chatting. “You getting in here?”  
  
“Yes, Gregory.” She sighed. “I’m going to change, make sure Sherlock doesn’t tear your new employee to pieces.”  
  
John was still staring at Sherlock, “Ok, ah, how’d you know that?”  
  
“Can you stretch me while we chat? My hamstring is feeling tight this morning.” He laid on his back.  
  
“Um, sure.” John rubbed his hands together. “Is this a reoccurring thing?”  
  
“The deduction or the hamstring?”  
  
“The hamstring.”  
  
“The amount work I put my body through I am bound to have aches and pains.” John felt like that was some type of understatement as he got to work. He had gone to school for sport medicine and remembered one of his professors saying that dancers put the most strain on their own bodies out of nearly every sport. He remembered seeing pictures of dancers’ feet and couldn’t believe they could walk, let lone dance.

“So the, what did you say, deduction… What’s that about? Why’d you ask me about Afghanistan or Iraq?”  
  
“Before Stamford left he mentioned his friend, John Watson, was interested in his position. Since you’re new here I deduced that you are the said John Watson. He said he was invalided home a year ago and here you are with your psychosomatic limp. Well, that and our haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists - you've been abroad but not sunbathing. Also your psychosomatic limp means your injury was traumatic.” Sherlock grunted when John pushed his leg back a little further.  
  
“That ok?”  
  
“Yes.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
  
“How do you know about my limp?”  
  
“The limp's really bad when you just walk around but you have no pain in your face when you’re standing still or working.”  
  
“Mmmhmm.” John moved on to Sherlock’s other leg. “How do you do that?”  
  
“I just observed you.”  
  
“He’s a freak.” Donovan, the one who had been fighting with Sherlock earlier, spoke up from the side conversation.  
  
“Bit harsh, isn’t that?”  
  
“Harsh, you should hear what he says about us.”  
  
“I only say what’s true.” Sherlock explained to John. “Some people just can not take it but it seems as if you can.”  
  
“Sit up for me and feet together.” He listened. “Press down.” Sherlock did so. “How’s it feel now?”  
  
“Excellent, thank you very much.” Sherlock jumped off the table and kicked his left leg up in the air with support of the table.  
  
“You’re not pointing well.” Irene was now getting into the bath. “Your feet look atrocious.” That really showed how much John knew because he thought Sherlock’s legs and feet were just fine.  
  
Sherlock ignored Irene, “What were you doing as a physiotherapist getting shot at in… you never answered…”  
  
“Afghanistan.” John answered.  
  
“So why were you there?”  
  
“Wanted to do something good with my life.”  
  
“Hmm, Queen and Country, how quaint.”  
  
“You do dance for the _Royal_ Ballet.” John laughed as Greg started to work on Donovan.  
  
Sherlock waved him off, “I’m leaving now.”  
  
“Don’t be late.” Donovan scolded him.

***

At around six it was time for John to head home. He didn’t realize how exhausting a full day of work was going to be like. It wasn’t that he didn’t like what he was doing or whom he was working with because Greg and the other trainers were great and the dancers weren’t so bad. It just felt like a constant effort to keep up with people.  
  
“You survived the first day.” Greg said as they took the elevator down to the first floor. “Seemed like you knew what was going on too.”  
  
“I’m still taking seminars on dance physio but it’s not too complicated.”  
  
“Kind of like riding a horse.”  
  
John chuckled, “Yeah sure.”  
  
They walked out the front and Greg went one way and John the other, “Do you have PTSD?” A voice rumbled behind him as he got to the corner of Floral Street.

He turned to see Sherlock smoking, “You should put that cigarette out.”  
  
“You’re off the clock, as the say.” He took a long drag. “So do you?”  
  
He didn’t want to talk to this bloke he’s known for five-minutes about the state of his mind, “Don’t you have routines to learn and stuff?”  
  
“You know absolutely nothing of ballet, do you?”  
  
“Is it important I do?”  
  
“No, but it’s interesting that you’re working here. You’re more of a rugby person, aren’t you?”  
  
John was going to ask how he knew but from earlier he figured he probably gave it away.  
  
“Boorish sport, that.” Sherlock followed John across the street. “Ballet is all science and math, though you may be able to make some type of argument that maths is used in other sport.”  
  
“Science? Maths? I thought it was an art.”  
  
“Hardly. Ballet is a science of movement, I’m sure you can appreciate that seeing you’re a physiotherapist. Math is used all over the place in routines.” Sherlock shoved his hands in to his long dramatic black Belstaff.  
  
He considered it with a nod. “Are you following me?” John jokingly asked as they turned down the street in unison.  
  
“No, actually, I’m on my way to dinner with my meddlesome brother just there.” He pointed to a restaurant just up the way. “Care to join? I do love running up the bill on him.”  
  
“You invite all the physiotherapists out to dinner when they first arrive?”  
  
“No, but you seem to have the potential to be not so boring and as I said, the more money my brother has to pay the better.”  
  
He wasn’t sure what to say to that but he turned down the invitation.  
  
“Very well then, John, I’ll see you tomorrow morning. My right knee is giving me a bit of a bother.” With that Sherlock picked up the pace, leaving John behind.  
  
John went back to his tiny flat and made himself a sad dinner that he ate alone. He should have been used to doing things on his own but some days it felt very heavy on him. But no one wanted a broken down war veteran with PTSD. He was lucky to find a job, a significant other or even a very good friend was probably too much to ask for.  
  
He couldn’t help it when his mind wandered to Sherlock Holmes. Professionally, he appreciated how good Sherlock’s physique was. He was really in top shape for a dancer. He didn’t appreciate his mind for supplying how much he wanted to shag him. Was he really so desperate for a shag that he thought about being unprofessional?  
  
“Stop thinking about it… and him.” John scolded himself as he washed his dishes.  
  
When he was done the washing up he pulled out his laptop and googled The Royal Ballet to do some recon on the people he was now working with. Apparently Sherlock Holmes was recognized as the best male dancer in the UK and ranked amongst the world’s greats but apparently his character left little to be desired. He was notorious for being cold and closed off. He was rude and apparently stuck up. John could see that potentially. Sherlock also seemed to have had issues with The American Ballet, they let him go and he had gone practically missing for a year. When he turned back up he was in the best shape of is life and The Royal Ballet offered him a spot in the company.  
  
He went on to read that Irene was Irene Adler, considered to be one of the top ballerinas. She had trained with The Royal Ballet and had danced in Russia and Sweden as well. There rumors that she and Sherlock were a couple. John thought they’d make a striking pair.

***

The next day Sherlock, who was waiting for him on the table, greeted John. He was wearing a tight black shirt and track bottoms. Greg and the other dancers were nowhere to be found.  
  
“Where is everyone?” John asked as he took his coat off.  
  
“Greg went to get coffee.”  
  
“What about your friends?”  
  
“They’re not my friends, they’re colleagues.” Sherlock watched John as he washed his hands.  
  
“I see.”  
  
“You never answered my question if you have PTSD. I’m going to assume that you do if you have a psychosomatic limp.”  
  
“So, how’s your knee?” John ignored him as he limped over to Sherlock.  
  
“What? Oh, it’s fine.”  
  
“Why are you here then?”  
  
“Getting to know the man who is going to have his hands on me all the time.”  
  
“You could have said you wanted to talk instead of lying to me.”  
  
Sherlock shrugged.  
  
“Is anything bothering you?”  
  
“Yes, why won’t you answer my question.”  
  
“Because, it’s personal. If you want to know me professionally, that’s one thing.”  
  
Sherlock squinted, “You didn’t mind yesterday about the deduction.”  
  
“No, well, I didn’t.”  
  
“It was unprofessional, wasn’t it?”  
  
“Ah, yeah, it was.” John crossed his arms. “I shouldn’t have let you go on.”  
  
“John, I thought you’d be less boring.” Sherlock crossed his ankles. "This is disappointing."  
  
“Oh, Sherlock, dear, are you irritating Mr. Watson?” John turned to see an older woman, who reminded John of his grandmum, at the door with Greg.  
  
“I’m just getting to know him.” Sherlock insisted.  
  
“This is Mrs. Hudson, the company director.” Greg said as he and Mrs. Hudson came closer.  
  
“It’s nice to meet you.” John smiled and shook her hand.  
  
“I’m so happy you’ve joined our little family.”  
  
Sherlock scoffed.  
  
“Ignore him.” Mrs. Hudson swatted at Sherlock’s arm. “Stop slouching.” She tapped Sherlock’s abdomen. “John, I’d like to invite you to a charity event we have next Friday. We’d love to have you there.”  
  
“John enjoys spending nights alone, I’m sure.”  
  
“If you weren’t such a great dancer, I don’t think anyone would take that lip from you, you know?” John said to him and Greg and Mrs. Hudson looked at him with raised eyebrows.  
  
“I’m not a dancer,” Sherlock imitated John’s accent. “I’m a Premier danseur.”  
  
“Principle dancer.” Greg joked and Sherlock shot him a look.  
  
“It’s how he said it.” He got off the table. “I’m off, I’ve far more important things to do.”  
  
“He’s a prat, ignore him.” Greg said.  
  
“John, I must go, but I do hope you come on Friday. I’ll make sure you get a proper invitation tomorrow.” Mrs. Hudson assured him. “Have a lovely day, gentlemen.”  
  
John and Greg saw her off. Eventually the dancers began to show up and John got to work, not thinking about Sherlock Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side note, I danced for about 13 years growing up but it's been some time since I've dealt with the terminology and all that stuff so I've done some research. Don't hate me if it's not all right, I'm really trying.


	2. Failli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Failli means to almost fall.

John was cleaning up for the day when Sherlock breezed through the door. It had been a week since he’d seen the man but he had heard the other company dancers talk about how he was being a tit during classes.  
  
“Oh, ah, hi Sherlock!” Molly practically squeaked.  
  
“John, I’d like to confirm that I have patella tendonitis in my right knee and then fix it.” He looked annoyed as he took a seat.  
  
“Sherlock, we’re supposed to be leaving now.” Molly frowned.  
  
“It’s ok, Molls, why don’t you head home. I know you need to help your sister with the kids.” John patted her shoulder. “I’ve got nowhere to be.”  
  
“Ok, thanks John.”  
  
“So, jumper’s knee?” John pushed up the leg of Sherlock’s sweats. “How long has it been bothering you?  
  
“I’ve been experiencing pain for a week.”  
  
“So you really were having knee problems when you came to bug me last?”  
  
Sherlock declined to answer.  
  
“When’s it bother you the most?”  
  
“Normally after classes.”  
  
“How about walking around or standing around?”  
  
“No, just when I’m working and directly afterwards.”  
  
John checked the knee, hip, and ankle range of motions and preformed a neurovascular examination.  
  
“Probably why you were having hamstring tightness the other day too.” John nodded to himself. “Had any tightness there or in your quads after you saw me?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Sounds like you’re right.”  
  
“What are we going to do then?”  
  
“Probably stage two so try to keep the workload light.”  
  
Sherlock laughed, “John, that’s not going to happen.”  
  
“Just try, ok? I know you all work yourselves ragged but it’s important to try to rest it. We’re going to do cryotherapy too, meaning four to six times a day you’re going to sit around with your knee iced and elevated for a half hour. We’ll do stretching and strengthening too daily. I’ll wrap it for you as well.”  
  
“How long will it take?”  
  
“If you listen to me, about two weeks.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“We can ice it now and then when you go home put your feet up and do it again.  
  
Sherlock nodded, watching John go for the ice.  
  
“Am I that interesting?”  
  
The other man looked away with a shrug, “I’m not sure, still trying to figure that out.”  
  
John didn’t press because he was still trying to figure out Sherlock. The man seemed like the opposite of whom John was normally friends with but he felt himself pulled towards him. It was odd.  
  
“You’re going to be attending Mrs. Hudson’s charity event on Friday?” Sherlock asked after John got his knee iced.  
  
“Seems so.”  
  
“You’re going to be bored out of your skull. It’s not your thing.”  
  
“Is it your thing?”  

“Absolutely not but I’m forced to attend.” Sherlock was now playing with his phone.  
  
“So are you dancing in a show right now?” John tried to make professional conversation.  
  
“We haven’t started the season yet but I have auditions for Spartacus and the Nutcracker in three weeks.” Sherlock set his phone down.  
  
“Ah, I see.”  
  
“If I have to dance in the Nutcracker again, I may commit a homicide. It’s so over done. Plus I’ll be more challenged with Spartacus, it’s known to be one of the hardest for a male principal.”  
  
“You won’t be doing that if you don’t take care of the knee.” John threatened.  
  
“I’ve danced on worse.”  
  
“What you lot put your body through is not human.” John took a seat on the chair that was near the table.  
  
“There is where the science is.” Sherlock grinned.  
  
“Maybe someday you can explain it to me?”  
  
“Now is the perfect time.” Sherlock gestured to his knee. “I have twenty five more minutes. Where would you like me to start? How about the barre exercises? It would be easier for me to show you at the same time but oh well. Now the barre is the bar that you see in the studios. Each barre exercise has a specific purpose to strengthen feet, increase extension, and improve flexibility. It works on proper placement and posture.”  
  
“Ok, what about the science.”  
  
“I’m just giving you a quick over view, John.”  
  
Sherlock went into great detail about what your body does to perform each barre exercise that came to mind. There was apparently physics, according to Sherlock. He said that, that came more into play in turns and jumps but there was still enough to keep John enthralled.  
  
“Thirty minutes, time for me to go.” Sherlock took the ice off his knee. “Shall I come in tomorrow morning for you to stretch me?” John swore it sounded like Sherlock was flirting with him.

"Ah, yep."

"Fantastic, see you then."

***

The next few days John saw Sherlock more than any of the other dancers. He came in, in the mornings to be stretched then between and after classes to be iced. John felt like he was going to be an expert on ballet with just a few half hours lessons from Sherlock.

He also felt like Sherlock wasn’t as cold and closed off as many suggested. When he talked about ballet he was animated and expressive. John was certain he’d never seen someone with so much passion before.  
  
“When you’re satisfied with my knee being all right, I think I should do some demonstrations for you. It may help with your work too.” Sherlock said Friday at around five. He needed to get home and change for the charity event but Sherlock insisted on coming in.  
  
“That’d be nice.” John said. He was very interested in seeing Sherlock perform, the man seemed like a natural performer.  
  
“And you’ll come to one of my performances, of course.”  
  
“Ha, sure.”  
  
“Let’s skip out on the charity gala.” Sherlock suggested.  
  
“No, it’s impolite to do that at the last minute.” John took the ice off Sherlock’s knee and went to wrap it for him.  
  
“I’m not known for being polite.”  
  
“I am so I’m not going to skive off with you.”  
  
“Pity, we could have done something fun.”  
  
“Like what?” John asked just to entertain Sherlock.  
  
“We could have gone to a club.”  
  
“You go to clubs?”  
  
“It’s a fascinating place to watch people interact and dancing is a brilliant way to pass the time, no matter what style.”  
  
“I don’t dance. I can’t dance with this bloody knee.”  
  
Sherlock frowned.  
  
John just laughed as he finished up, “We’re done here. I have to go home and try to look presentable.”  
  
“I’ll see you there. Laters.” Sherlock winked at John before leaving.

***

At eight John arrived at the Covent Garden Hotel and suddenly felt underdressed in his best suit. He was in another world with women in beautiful gowns and men in perfectly tailored suits. “Drink champagne, it helps.” Sherlock was suddenly next to him with two glasses of champagne. He looked stunning in a navy suit.  
  
John laughed, taking the champagne flute from Sherlock. “Thank you.”  
  
“It’s dreadfully boring here, John, we can still escape.” Sherlock nearly downed the entire glass.  
  
“Easy, there.” John took a small sip. “What are we raising money for, now? It just said that it’s Mrs. Hudson’s charity.”  
  
“You didn’t research it?”  
  
John shrugged, “I don’t know, been busy. Taking care of your bloody knee is a full time job on top of a full time job.”  
  
“It’s for scholarships for inner city kids who want to dance.” Sherlock huffed.  
  
“So, can you do that deducing thing you were telling me about? Maybe that will make you less bored.”  
  
“It’s not a party trick, John.”  
  
John made eye contact with Greg and Molly who waved and started to make their way over. “I know it’s not, but you’re really good at it.”  
  
“Bloody hell, Molly is on her way over here now. Why did you do that? You know she fancies me. I can’t even go to her when I have a problem because she’s so smitten, she can’t think properly.” Sherlock grabbed another glass as a waiter walked by.  
  
“You think so highly of yourself.” John elbowed him.  
  
“I’m going to find more alcohol.”  
  
“Don’t drink too much. Eat something, when did you eat last?” John really didn’t want to see Sherlock embarrass himself but he was gone without another word.  
  
Molly and Greg finally got to John, “Molls, you look lovely tonight.”  
  
“Oh! Thank you John!” She nursed her drink. “You do too… um… where’s Sherlock?”  
  
“Went to go find someone more interesting than me, I think.” John spared her feelings. She was a nice girl, she was just a bit awkward.  
  
“Probably Irene.” Greg rolled his eyes.  
  
“Are they really dating?” John wanted to ask Sherlock but he didn’t want to make things unprofessional  
  
“From what I understand, no, but they act like an old married couple.” Greg said. “Honestly I don’t know if that man can have a relationship with anything that isn’t dance. It’s all he really cares about.”  
  
John wasn’t sure what to say so he changed the subject to rugby.  
  
A few hours later Mrs. Hudson finally greeted him and Greg. Molly had left because she wasn’t feeling well.

“Sorry I haven’t come by to say hello, dear.” Mrs. Hudson frowned. “And I can’t stay to chat, I have a big announcement!” She clapped her hands together.  
  
“It’s fine, don’t let us keep you.” John urged and she smiled before making her way to the front of the room.  

“I think we’re getting a new member of the company.” Greg guessed.

  “Come gather around, everyone, please.” Mrs. Hudson said into a microphone.  
  
“It’ll ruffle some feathers, no doubt. They got an opening for a principal male and Anderson was gunning for it, I’ve a feeling that it’s about to be filled.” Greg said as they made their way closer to where Mrs. Hudson was.  
  
“I would say your conclusion is spot on, Lestrade.” John looked to is right to see Sherlock drinking now what looked like whiskey.  
  
“Make you happy, though.”  
  
Sherlock swayed a little on is feet.  
  
“You ok?”  
  
Sherlock obviously faked a smile, “Why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
“Don’t know…”  
  
Mrs. Hudson began, “I would love to thank you all for joining me here tonight. You’ve all made such a difference.” She went on to talk about what had been raised and how it would help the kids.  
  
“Now, I have some very exciting news for The Royal Ballet.” She grinned widely, “The fabulous James Moriarty will be joining the company.” Everyone clapped. John figured it was a big deal with all the excited murmurs he heard around the room.  
  
Sherlock however was moving to leave. John didn’t have a good feeling about that so he went after him. The man was obviously wasted, so he went after him to make sure nothing happened. He didn’t speak until they were outside. “So, not a fan of Moriarty?”  
  
Sherlock snorted as he fumbled with a pack of cigarettes, “Why say such a thing?”  
  
“You’re pissed and left in a rush after the announcement.”  
  
The dancer just lit his cigarette silently.  
  
“Okay, are you going to be okay getting home?”  
  
“Home? Let’s go out.”  
  
“You need to get home and sleep it off.”  
  
Sherlock rolled up on to the balls of his feet and lifted his right leg up behind him gracefully while holding the cigarette in his mouth. His hands grabbed his ankle as he extended more, “You see, I’m perfectly fine.” When he brought his leg down he stumbled into the wall next to him.  
  
“You need to go home.” John looked up the street for a cab.  
  
“No need to be so dull, John.”  
  
He bit his lip. John didn’t want to be unprofessional because that seemed to be a dangerous road to go down with Sherlock Holmes. But it wasn’t unprofessional if it was about the new dancer, right?  
  
“What’s up with this Moriarty bloke?”  
  
Sherlock shook his head and started to walk away, “We should go to KOKO.”  
  
John followed after him, “No, we should get you back to your flat.”  
  
“Would you come with?” Sherlock looked at John as if he wanted to devour him. “Have you ever shagged a dancer, John?”  
  
“Sherlock.” This was definitely not professional.  
  
“We’re rather flexible, would you like a go?” The dancer stopped at the street corner.  
  
John could feel blush spreading across his cheeks.  
  
“Oh, don’t be coy. I know you’re attracted to me, shall I tell you how I know?” Sherlock didn’t wait for John to answer. “Your pulse increases when you’re working with me, your pupils dilate, and your palms become sweaty.” He stepped closer to John.  
  
“You are so pissed right now.”  
  
“I know what’s going on, John.” Sherlock’s breath tickled his cheek.  
  
No matter how much he wanted to shag Sherlock, this was not how he wanted to do it. Not that he would. John took a deep breath and looked up to see a cab coming. He stepped away and signaled it down.  
  
“Stop being boring.” Sherlock whined as John ushered him into the cab.  
  
There was no way he was going to let Sherlock go home alone, he had a strong feeling that the man would just end up an some club. “I’m going with you, just to make sure you’re actually going home. Your well-being is my job.”  
  
Sherlock pouted but didn’t say a word, other than, “221 Baker Street”. John hoped that it was his address.  
  
They passed the ride in silence and pulled up to a building on a nice street. Sherlock got out of the cab, leaving John to pay the driver.  
  
“I knew you’d accept.” Sherlock said, sounding proud of himself, as they entered the building.  
  
“Nope, I’m just making sure you’re going to pass out, and then I’m going back to my own flat.” John limped up the stairs after him.  
  
Sherlock fought with his key when they reached the top of the stairs, “You should live a little.” He hiccuped when he finally got inside.  
  
“I live plenty.”  
  
“You may have used to live but not anymore. You’re boring but you don’t have to be.”  
  
John ignored the other man and entered the flat, closing the door behind them. He looked around the flat. It was warm but a bit of a mess. There were dance shoes and tights piled in a corner. A violin was sitting on the couch and composition paper was all over the table. It was very lived it.  
  
“Where’s your room?”  
  
“Have to go through the kitchen, I’ll show you.”  
  
“Why don’t you go in there and get into bed? I’ll bring you some water then I’ll head out.”  
  
Sherlock listened.

John rummaged around the kitchen for a glass. The place was a mess and the sink was filled with, what looked to be, every single water glass and tea mug Sherlock probably owned. John went into the fridge to see if the man had bottled water. He did but John was surprised to see Tupperware marked with Thursday through Sunday on them.  
  
“Probably goes to a nutritionist.” John muttered to himself as he grabbed the water and went to Sherlock’s room. Even if it was just the nutritionist to keep him eating healthy, he didn’t like how Sherlock hadn’t ate his preplanned meals in two days.  
  
In Sherlock’s room, which was much neater than the rest of the flat, the man was under the duvet with out is shirt on – at least.  
  
“Are you going to be ok?” John set his water down.  
  
“My brother would call this a danger night.” Sherlock muttered as he sank lower.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Not a good night.” He yawned. “Come to bed, John.”  
  
“No, ah, but what’s the danger night?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“Sherlock... just... go to sleep.” John pulled the duvet up to Sherlock’s chin.  
  
“Be here in the morning?”  
  
John probably should have gone home but he didn’t like the sound of ‘danger night’. He also should have a conversation about Sherlock’s nutrition plan, that’s a part of his job, even if he was not meant to know about it.  
  
“Yeah, sure, you’ll be nice and hunger over.”  
  
John stayed standing by the doorway until Sherlock was snoring lightly.


	3. Soubresaut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soubresaut refers to a sudden spring or jump from both feet, traveling forward in either first third or fifth position and landing on both feet in the same position as they started.

Sherlock woke up with the worst hangover he had, had in a very long time. The night before was no good. He had a feeling for a few days that Jim was going to be returning to The Royal Ballet but the confirmation of it affected him more than he thought it would. The man was the worst thing to happen in his life. He had been doing well the last five years since leaving Jim behind.  
  
He pushed himself out of bed and went to shower, hoping to wash the hangover away. Of course, it didn’t work because showers cannot cure everything. It was a good thing that he didn’t have anything on for the day because the thought of doing a pirouette or allegro exercises made him want to vomit.  
  
Sherlock shuffled out to the kitchen in his dressing gown and frowned, remembering that he had gone off his meal plan. Logically he knew that eating right was important to fuel his body. It had been five years since he had started the plan and done so well on it with very few problems. But he was worried about having to compete with Jim again, not that he was competing last time. He needed to move faster and smoother than the man now. He needed to be better.  
  
 _You’re being an idiot. You need to eat. Jim is a trigger that you are able to overcome. You’re already better than him._  
  
“Good you’re awake.”

Sherlock’s head snapped towards to living room to see John Watson on his couch.  
  
Had he really been that drunk, he didn’t remember bringing John to his home? He really did like John, oddly enough. He hated how he was so interested in him but Sherlock had never had anyone look at him with such interest and curiosity. Normally he would have hated being stuck icing his knee multiple times a day in the physiosuite but John made it tolerable.  
  
“Yes.” Sherlock started the kettle.  
  
“Hungover, are you?” John joined him in the kitchen. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt, one he must have had on under is oxford, and his trousers. “Maybe you should have some toast for your stomach. I’ll – um – I’ll leave you to it.” John went to move.  
  
“No, stay.” Sherlock put his hand on John’s arm. “Stay for tea, as a thank you.”  
  
“Do you remember last night?”  
  
Sherlock stayed silent as he put two slices of bread in the toaster.  
  
“You don’t… that’s fine.”  
  
He frowned again, “I apologize for anything I may have done or said.”  
  
“Ah, danger night, what’s a danger night?” John looked embarrassed to ask. “That’s why I didn’t leave. I was worried, it didn’t sound very good.”  
  
Sherlock rubbed is face, “I’ve had my problems but I’m fine now.” He didn’t want to talk to John about his past. He told no one about his past.  
  
“Ok.” John took a seat, “That’s fine. The way you were acting, I was just a bit worried, is all.”  
  
“I didn’t upset Mrs Hudson, did I?” Sherlock poured out two cups.  
  
“Not that I know of, I wasn’t with you for most of the night. After the announcement of a new dancer you took off.”  
  
“And you followed.”  
  
“I could tell you weren’t doing that well.” John looked like he was holding something back when John set the tea in front of him.  
  
“Milk or sugar?”  
  
“Both, please.”  
  
“What did I say to you? There’s something other than the danger night. You are thinking about that still but I think there’s something else that you don’t want to talk about.” Sherlock placed the milk and sugar on the table.  
  
John blushed and looked away from Sherlock’s gaze.  
  
“I tried to shag you.” He went over to the toast and put it on a plate before grabbing jam.  
  
“You were just drunk, things like that happen.”  
  
Sherlock shrugged before sitting with John. “You more often than not speak your mind more freely when you are drinking.”  
  
“You meant it?” John laughed as if he didn’t believe it.  
  
“You’re an attractive man, who does not know how attractive he is. I enjoy being around you. You’re not as boring as some people. You have an active interest in dance, now that you’re working with us. You’re knowledgable about the human body and you enjoy learning.” Sherlock picked at a piece of toast. “I would shag you sober, as well. It wasn’t just something that I was just saying because I had a few drinks.”  
  
“This is so unprofessional.”  
  
“They’re going to put that on your headstone,” Sherlock took a sip of his tea. “When was the last time you did something for yourself?”  
  
“It’s been awhile but I can’t do this with you.” John looked at the toast Sherlock was toying with but not eating.  “If there’s anything you’d like to talk to me about that has to do with dance or your health then I’m all ears.” John certainly suspected something.  
  
“You promise not to be awkward when I come in Monday morning?”  
  
“I promise, I couldn’t say that if we shagged.”  
  
Sherlock was doubtful about that.  
  
Not long after John finished his tea and left Sherlock alone. He went back to his bedroom to sulk the rest of the day.

***

Monday morning came far too quickly.

John kept is promise to not make things awkward when he came into ice and stretch his knee. Sherlock was in the middle of talking about the difference between allegro in dance and in music because when Sherlock mentioned it John brought up how he remembered the term from when he had played clarinet when he was in school.  
  
“Ok, so they both just mean you do whatever it is fast.”  
  
“Seeing that allegro is Italian for fast, yes.”  
  
“No need to be so rude about it.” John was gathering what he needed to wrap Sherlock’s leg when Jim walked in.

Suddenly it felt as if his stomach was in knots.  
  
“Hello, dear.” Jim came over to Sherlock.  
  
“Jim.”  
  
“Um, I take it you’re James Moriarty.” John took the ice off Sherlock’s knee. “I’m John Watson, one of the physiotherapist.”  
  
“Pleasure, I’m sure.” Jim offered an unauthentic smile. “So, Spartacus? How exciting, my first show back with The Royal Ballet and it’s a nice challenge.”  
  
“Who says that you’re going to be getting a part in it?”  
  
“Don’t worry, there’s two male leads.”  
  
“Yes, you’d be a wonderful Crassus.” Sherlock mumbled as John started to wrap his leg.  
  
“No, I was thinking Spartacus, himself.”  
  
“I don’t believe you have the heart for it.”  
  
“And you do, dear?”  
  
“I’m sorry, James, but I need to talk to Sherlock about his knee. If you need anything Molly’s in the office around the corner, she can help you.” John said in a voice that hinted at being in a position of command before. Sherlock kept that stored in his head as a turn on for future reference.  
  
“Right, I’ll be seeing you around, Sherlock.” Jim left the physiosuite, without going to see Molly.  
  
“You didn’t have to do that.” Sherlock could feel a smile trying to form on his lips.  
  
“You were uncomfortable.” John said quietly.  
  
“Come to dinner with me tonight, maybe you can tell my brother to piss off nicely.”  
  
“I don’t think so, but good luck with that.” John laughed.  
  
“Would you like to get coffee tomorrow after you ice me the last time?” He was a bit determined to spend more time with John.  
  
“I told you, Sherlock…”  
  
“I know.” Sherlock huffed and looked at his phone. “I have class, I’ll see you after.”  
  
Sherlock felt John staring at him as he made his way out. He was worried about going to class because he didn’t want to deal with Jim at all.  
  
Class went as well as he expected and it didn’t get better as the week went on. Jim would tell him he needed to be lighter on his feet because he sounded like an elephant or make disapproving noises when he thought what Sherlock was doing wasn’t good enough. Sherlock would tell Jim piss off and focus on his atrocious turn out or whatever else he thought was lacking. Of course that didn’t make Sherlock feel any better as much as he tried.  
  
“Don’t let him get to you, darling.” Irene said on Thursday as they left the studio.  
  
“He’s not.”  
  
“You’re…” She trailed off, looking for the word. “You don’t look as if you’re passionate about dance. I haven’t seen that intense passion you have at all this week.”  
  
“You’re imagining things, Irene.”  
  
“I want to dance with you the next show, so find it again.”  
  
Sherlock made his way to the physiosuite without another word because spending time with John at least three times a day were the only parts of his day where things didn’t feel out of place. He was about to sit and talk about ballet while John sat with rapt attention. He didn’t worry about his form or his weight. All he thought of was John and dance. Jim wasn’t anywhere in his mind to be seen.

***

By the next Monday Sherlock felt like he was going to completely lose himself again. John determined Friday that he didn’t need to come in to get his knee iced and stretched everyday, let alone three times a day. He was ignoring the meal plan completely and constantly thinking about his BMI. He was back to counting calories and pretending to eat.  
  
When he felt like that he would go to the studio, when everyone left, and danced alone. He knew that he was not supposed to exercise compulsively but he did not do it to push himself to lose more weight, he did it to keep his head together.  
  
He was doing a series of leaps across the floor when he heard the door open to the studio. Naturally, he expected Jim to come bother him but thankfully he was wrong.  
  
“Thought I told you to not overwork that knee. I know it’s better but I don’t want you to push it.” John stayed by the door.  
  
“I need to practice.”  
  
“Right, a week until your auditions.”  
  
“There’s no need to stand all the way over there.” Sherlock gestured to the chair near his bag.  
  
John didn’t hesitate to come in and sit down, “I’m not talking you out of dancing anymore tonight, am I?”  
  
Sherlock shook his head and took first position at the barre closest to John, “I can show you some of what I’ve talked about. Basics, first position,” he moved his feet apart, “Second,” he crossed one foot in front of the other while touching at the middle, “Third,” he stepped his left foot back, “Fourth”, he crossed again so they touched heel to toe, “and fifth.”  
  
“Ok.” John didn’t look impressed.  
  
“Of course, you thought that was boring.” He pouted. John didn’t care about the boring stuff, did he?  
  
He chuckled, “No… it was good.”  
  
Sherlock took to the center, in front of John. “I’ll show you adage and see if you can name the movements. I recently described them for you.” He started with a series of pliés.  
  
“Ah…”  
  
“Pliés, John.” He went into développés.  
  
“You’re always doing that with your leg, kicking it back.”  
  
“This is not kicking it back. This is a développé,” he stayed in the position for a few seconds. “Perfect control, nothing is moving, and my posture is perfect.”  
  
“You care a lot about perfect.”  
  
“At this level, yes.” He did a few fouetté en tournante.  
  
“Is it fun?”  
  
Sherlock shrugged, “It’s always fun when I’m dancing like this. You’re bored with these too.”  
  
“No, you look amazing.” John licked his lips.  
  
“Was there something that you wanted to see in particular?”  
  
“Just whatever it was you wanted to show me.”  
  
Sherlock walked over to the radio near John, “How about this?” He pressed play and took his position at center and counted off before he began to move. [The two-minute dance](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4OR-n3Rg6E8%20) contained enough jumps and turns to keep John’s interest. Sherlock had come with it when he had been recovering years ago. It made him feel strong but it was also soft and vulnerable in some places. He’d never danced it in front of others but felt that he could show John.  
  
“I… that was… I don’t think there’s anything to describe that.” John’s mouth was hanging open. “The height you get off the ground and the lines of your body and that look on your face.” He shifted in the chair. Sherlock figured he was slightly aroused.  
  
“Come home with me.” Sherlock said quietly.  
  
“Sherlock –“  
  
“I’ll stop trying once you walk out the door tonight.”  
  
John rubbed his hands on his legs, “It’s wrong.”  
  
“It’s not. It’s wrong that you’re torturing yourself. You want to know me better, come know me better.” Sherlock didn’t want to be alone that night and his want for John was growing.  
  
“I don’t want anyone to know… not that I’d be ashamed of you but I don’t want anyone to think of me differently.”  
  
“You don’t want to be a groupie.” Sherlock smiled as he straddled John. “You won’t be and I won’t say a word.” He ghosted his lips over John’s.  
  
“Let’s go back to yours before I shag you right here.” John’s strong hands were now on his back.  
  
“That’s rather tempting but people may find out then, wouldn’t they?”  
  
“Probably, seeing the wall over there is all glass.” John laughed as Sherlock stood up and then pulled him up.  
  
“And that would foil my plan.” Sherlock threw his bag over his shoulder.  
  
“Your plan of what?”  
  
“Of this not being a one-time thing.”  
  
John shook his head and followed Sherlock home.


	4. Manège

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manège refers to steps that travel in a circle around the dance area.

Sherlock sat up watching John, who had fallen off to sleep afterwards. He felt like he’d been trying to get John to bed for ages but it wasn’t even a month. He had never been with a man like John. The man was so appreciative of Sherlock’s body (he never heard the words beautiful and gorgeous repeated in such a short period of time), so kind, and wanted everything to benefit them both.  
  
John rolled over on to his stomach and yawned, “Have you been watching me sleep?”  
  
He laughed and leaned down to press kisses to John’s back, focusing on the scar on his shoulder. His scar was absolutely fascinating. When Sherlock first touched it John flinched as if it had hurt but he said it didn’t, he was just surprised that someone would want to touch the marred flesh. He obviously didn’t know Sherlock well enough.  
  
“Is it wrong if I had?”  
  
“I hear that it’s romantic but I always thought it a bit creepy.” John said jokingly.  
  
“You’re happy.” Sherlock lied down so he could look at John’s face.  
  
“Am I normally not?”  
  
“Not really. You sort of just muddle through.”  
  
John closed his eyes before burying his face into the pillow. He then said something completely incomprehensible.  
  
“I couldn’t hear a word you’ve just said.” He ran a finger down John’s spine.  
  
John turned his head again to look at Sherlock, “I said, I never thought anyone would want me again, let alone a gorgeous creature like you. I’m 34, you’re 25. I’m an old, limping war veteran and you’re a perfectly in shape dancer.”  
  
“You’re absolutely the most absurd man.”  
  
“I’m absurd?” John said in disbelief. “You don’t believe me when I tell you how attractive I find you. I can see the doubt all over your face.”  
  
“I’m odd looking.”  
  
“You’re bloody hot. I’m sure I can find plenty of people who agree with me.”  
  
Sherlock laughed, “I like you like this, much better than your attempts at being professional.”  
  
John groaned, “I shouldn’t work on you anymore.”  
  
“Don’t be even more absurd than you are. I don’t trust anyone more than you at this point.”  
  
“Greg has far more experience.”  
  
“This is dull, let’s stop talking about work.”  
  
“Fine, can we get something to eat because I’m famished?”  
  
“I’m not very hungry but you’re welcomed to order something.”  
  
“I should get back home.” John looked at the clock on the wall. Sherlock felt like he was avoiding the topic of food any further.

 _I could just tell him._    “No, please stay.”  
  
“I’ll need a change of clothes before work tomorrow.” John chuckled as he reached out and played with a loose curl in the middle of Sherlock’s forehead.  
  
“You should probably go then.” Sherlock said reluctantly.  
  
“Don’t be like that.” John kissed Sherlock slowly. “I’d like to take you on a proper date Friday after work, is that ok or are you busy?”  
  
“That’s fine but bring a change of clothes so you can stay.” Sherlock sighed as John’s lips moved down to his neck.  
  
“Ok.” He said against his throat.  
  
“What are we going to be doing? I should dress appropriately.” Sherlock rolled on to his back to give John better access but John just sat up  
  
“Just wear your normal street clothes, those slim trousers and a nice shirt.”  
  
“Fine, then.” Sherlock tried to run through where they could be going. It had been a long time since he had dated someone. Jim really was the last and it certainly wasn’t a very good relationship. Plus they never went out on romantic dates. Before that was Victor but they were barely 16 and the next year he went back to Moscow and Sherlock to New York.  
  
“I’m sorry I have to leave you but I’d never get to work tomorrow morning if I woke up here with you. You probably wouldn’t have made it out of bed either.” John reached for his pants that had ended up on the end of the bed.  
  
“That sounds tempting.”  
  
John frowned as he pulled on his pants, “Is Jim bothering you? He seems like a right twat. Maybe you should talk to Mrs Hudson?” John got out of bed to finishing dressing.  
  
“I’m not a child.”  
  
“Still, you’ve been acting a bit different since he came along.”  
  
“Jim and I have a long and unpleasant past, it’s not something I’d like to discuss at the time.”  
  
“Ok.” John pulled on his polo. “I’ll see you in the morning, come in so I can wrap your knee for you.”

***

When he entered the physio suite in the morning John was walking around the room without his cane or limp. Sherlock felt dumbfounded for a moment.  
  
“You’re not limping?”  
  
“Tell me about it, it’s as much of a surprise to me than it is to you.” John laughed and looked towards the office, where Greg probably was. “Only one thing has changed into my life since…”  
  
Sherlock smiled knowingly as he got up on the table. How fascinating, had John’s limp stemmed from a fear of being alone and unwanted?  
  
“I think it’s because I’m not alone now and I have something I like doing in my life.” John confirmed as he checked Sherlock’s range of motion. “I have a purpose and I’m not just a sad, lonely man.”  
  
“No, you certainly are not.” He brushed his hand across John’s. John Watson was the most interesting man he’d ever met.

***

Sherlock attempted to concentrate on Friday the rest of the week. Trying not to go and snog John every free moment gave him something to focus on that was not Jim’s criticism or the fact the audition was creeping up. But he still wasn’t eating nearly enough and working far too much. Part of his mind knew he was being illogical but the other was telling him he needed to lose five more pounds before the audition.  
  
“Ready?” Sherlock asked John, who was cleaning up in the physio suite.  
  
“Let me change and can we pop by yours just so I can leave my clothes there. Where we’re going is on the way.”  
  
“Why not change there?” Sherlock asked after John disappeared into the bathroom.  
  
“We’d never make it out of there!” John shouted through the door.  
  
Sherlock thought maybe it would be a good idea but John would want dinner at some point. He figured he could do with a salad and nurse a glass of red wine. He was going to have to tell John at some point if they were going to spend any amount of time together. It had been a long time since he said anorexia out loud, almost in some childish sense that if he didn’t say it he no longer had to deal with it.  
  
“Everything ok?” John was standing in front of him in a grey button down and navy trousers.  
  
“Fine, why?”  
  
“You looked lost in a deep thought.”  
  
“That happens from time to time.” Sherlock cleared his throat, “Shall we?”  
  
After dropping their things at Sherlock’s they headed out to eat, “Where are we going? You have yet to say.”  
  
“Well, for dinner, I wasn’t sure where to go around here so I just googled it to find a place near you. It’s called Angelo’s.”  
  
Sherlock knew the place well, it was one of the usual restaurants Mycroft would take him to on their weekly dinners. “It’s very good.”  
  
“That’s good to know. After… I think I’ll surprise you.”  
  
He regarded the other man for a moment but couldn’t see anything to give him a hint at all.  
  
When they arrived at Angelo’s a few minutes later, Angelo greeted Sherlock with his normal enthusiasm. Sherlock once got him season tickets for his wife at a large discount and since then the man went out of his way to be hospitable and get Sherlock whatever he wanted.  
  
“That was unexpected.” John said after they settled into ‘the best seat in the house’.  
  
“I did him a favor by getting tickets for his wife once.”  
  
“Ah, I see.” John picked up his menu. “You’re sweet.”  
  
“Not what people normally say,” Sherlock tapped his foot against John’s.  
  
“I should say, you can be sweet.”  
  
After ordering they settled into a conversation why Sherlock had got into dance, “So you’re mother stuck you in because you were too active.”  
  
“That and she was convinced I had the best point she had ever seen.” Sherlock recalled lightly. “She’d tell my dad I was born to be a dancer with my long legs and arms and the point of my toes. I started when I was four and haven’t stopped since.”  
  
“You haven’t?”  
  
Sherlock took a sip of his wine to figure how to talk about the missing year, “You know about my year of exile after I was asked to leave New York?”  
  
John nodded, running his pinky finger around the base of the glass.  
  
“That was where Jim comes into my story but I’d rather not talk of that now.” He hoped that was enough. He would talk about it, not on a date though.  
  
“We won’t then, what else did you do as I kid? I know you play violin and it looks like you compose but you also have chemistry stuff in your flat and you do your deductions.”  
  
“I enjoy playing music, I started violin when I was about ten, it’s always been a nice hobby.  
  
“As for the experiments, I was and am passionate about ballet but I had scholarly interests as well. When I wasn’t dancing I was reading, mostly my interest lie in chemistry but I do enjoy all the physical sciences to some extent. I still find myself experimenting in my downtime. I’ve always liked puzzles and science gave me things to solve.  
  
“As for the deducing, my father taught my brother and me from the moment we could speak. He was in some secret government job, MI5 I suppose, and he said it helped him in his life greatly. He wanted me to get into the same field but even if I was not a professional dancer, I don’t believe I’d ever be able to hold down a normal job. Mycroft followed my father’s footsteps so at least he can be proud of that.”  
  
“Don’t be silly, I’m sure he’s proud of you.”  
  
Sherlock shrugged, “He’s never been to one of my performances. Mummy and Mycroft always show but never him.”  
  
John frowned but then went on, “So you have a good relationship with them?”  
  
“It’s decent, I assume.”  
  
“That’s good.”  
  
“What about you, John? Your family?”  
  
“I’m sure you know.”  
  
“I suspect…”  
  
“Tell me.” John really did enjoy his deductions.  

“I’m not sure if your parents are alive. If they are your relationship is very strained. When I alluded to problems with my father you genuinely empathized with me. You’ve also spoke of them in the past tense. You’re barely on speaking terms with your sister, you’ve mentioned her offhandedly when you said that she took ballet as a girl but stopped after three classes. You disapprove of her somehow. I could see it in your face before. I’m sure if I’ve spent time in your flat or more time with you I’d be able to figure it out.”  
  
John looked at him amazed, “Yes, my parents and I don’t get on. Neither of them were happy when I enlisted because I threw away my education and neither liked it at all when I came out to them a week after my sister. Harry and I never really got on. I swear I was adopted into that family sometimes because I was nothing like them. But I do love her, she’s just…she’s a bit over dramatic and she has a lot of problems that she never wants to talk about or deal with.”  
  
Sherlock did not like how the last sentence sat heavy in the air as their food was set in front of them.

Sherlock ate half of his salad and used some old tricks to make it look like more. It helped that they returned to a relaxed conversation.  
  
Eventually they left Angelo’s, the man wouldn’t let John pay because Sherlock was apparently too generous. “He really likes you, I might have some competition.” John said after they got into a cab. He placed a hand on Sherlock’s thigh.  
  
“No, you have none.” Sherlock inched closer to kiss him. He wasn’t sure what made John so kissable but he let himself not ponder the mystery as John’s tongue swiped at his bottom lip.  
  
Before they made it to their destination John banished Sherlock to the other side of the cab, saying they were being rude. That had earned a soft laugh from the driver.  
  
They finally made it to John’s mystery location, “Tango?” Sherlock asked as they entered the candle lit space. Couples were all over the floor, as well as a few instructors. There were a few people lingering on the edge, enjoying drinks.  
  
“You told me you liked dancing, no matter the type, but when you tried to get me to go out before it was always to loud techno clubs.” John explained as they checked their coats. “I don’t do those types of clubs… not to mention, by the way, my limp was still around then… but I remembered Greg talking about this place a week back because his wife dragged him to it. I thought I could do something like this. Do you know the Tango?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Teach me.” John held out his hand. “I haven’t done anything but limp around for sometime, I’d like to move a little differently now that I can.”  
  
“Which style?”  
  
“You choose.”  
  
Sherlock decided on the original Argentine as the embrace was normally closer than the others. “I’ll teach you how to lead.” He brought John towards the center as the outside was for more knowledgeable dancers. But he didn’t want to be too much in the center to draw attention towards them, they weren’t there to show off like a few of the couples who were currently there.  
  
“I don’t have to.”  
  
“I know you don’t have to but I’m far more suited to follow. There is no basic step, there’s a lot of improvising. The dance is about passion and flowing with the music. We want to move counterclockwise around the floor.” He pulled John to his chest with his arm low on his back and took the other hand in his. “This is the embrace, wrap your arm around me like I’m doing. Good. Ok, walking…” Sherlock showed him cross and parallel walking as well as a few other moves.  
  
Sherlock built up John’s confidence and eventually got him to lead. Soon they were dancing around the floor. They weren’t the best couple but that didn’t matter because he was dancing with John Watson. John, who had been limping a week ago, was dancing because he was no longer alone. John, who Sherlock seemed to find completely amazing for some reason, was pressed against him dancing because he knew Sherlock would enjoy it. John had never danced before, let alone something like the Tango and here he was taking to it so easily.  
  
“You two are lovely.” A woman said to them at the bar when they stopped to get some water. “I could tell it was your first time,” She nodded to John, “But you’re a very good teacher.” She said to Sherlock. “You can’t teach that passion, boy you two have it! I wish my husband looked at me like you two look at each other! I’m so jealous.”  
  
Sherlock found her slightly annoying but John seemed to like the comments.  
  
They danced until the club closed at two. Sherlock brought John home and they tangoed in the living room, laughing about nothing at all it seemed. They giggled their way to the bedroom and the laughs eventually turned to moans of pleasure.  
  
After John pulled Sherlock close and kissed him before moving to fall asleep. Sherlock had never felt so comfortable in his life.


	5. Ouvert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouvert means open, opened. This may refer to positions (the second and fourth positions of the feet are positions ouvertes), limbs, directions, or certain exercises or steps. In the French School the term is used to indicate a position or direction of the body similar to effacé.

John woke up sore. So sore he was sure his limp was back. He still could not get over the fact that his bloody limp disappeared. He noticed it half way to the Baker Street station Monday night. He almost didn’t want to talk about it or think about it, in fear that it would come back. Greg commented on how happy John was and asked if there was a special someone in his life now. John played it off, saying he was just getting back to life. When Sherlock came in he seemed as shocked as John.  
  
Christ, it was hard not to kiss Sherlock every time he came in to do stretching and strengthening the rest of the week.  
  
Last night he bloody tangoed with Sherlock Holmes, a Principal Dancer for the Royal Ballet, and then they went back to his flat to have the most fantastic sex. He could not remember the last time he had such a good time. Maybe when he was on leave in Tokyo? That was a few years ago and after the last rough year of his life it might as well have been a lifetime ago.  
  
He rolled over, finally ready to get out from under the duvet, to see Sherlock sitting on the edge of the bed, fully clothed, “Hey.”  
  
“Good morning, John. I just returned from the studio. Additional practice before the audition, I didn’t want to wake you.” He explained as he took off his shoes.  
  
“What time is it?”  
  
“Eleven.”  
  
“Bloody hell, I haven’t slept that well in a long time.” Normally nightmares kept him up most nights and others he would just have trouble sleeping. “You couldn’t have slept long.”  
  
“A few hours but I’m back and I’m very happy you haven’t left the bed.” Sherlock crawled over to him.  
  
“I need food first.” John laughed as Sherlock kissed his jaw. “Sustenance.”  
  
“Mmm, later, stay here.” Sherlock tugged at John's earlobe lightly with his teeth.  
  
“Just because you probably already ate doesn’t mean I have.” John tickled Sherlock’s sides.  
  
“Fine, go eat if you must.” Sherlock kissed John once more before settling into bed. “But come back here, at once.”  
  
“Do you want to go to lunch?”  
  
Sherlock frowned.  
  
“We can’t spend all of our lives in bed, even though it does sound like a good idea.” John said while he looked for his clothes. “Plus, you have auditions on Monday. You probably want to do some work the rest of this weekend.”  
  
Sherlock agreed as he spread out over the sheets.  
  
“Do you have eggs?”  
  
“Yes, I bought some yesterday.”  
  
“Assumed you’d do well, then?”  
  
“No, I just assumed you were that easy.” Sherlock teased.  
  
“You’re a cheeky bastard, you know?” John pulled on the clean pair of jeans he had brought with him.  
  
“I know.” The dancer smiled widely.  
  
“Would you like any - wait a second, shouldn’t you be making me food? I’m a guest in your home.”  
  
Sherlock looked nervous for a moment but John just laughed and rolled his eyes, “I’m joking. Do you want anything while I’m out there?”  
  
“No, thank you.”  
  
“All right, you rest your knee up. I’ll give you a massage after.” John winked at Sherlock before going to the kitchen.  
  
He poked around until he found everything he needed for eggs, toast, and tea. While standing there cooking his eggs his mind wandered to the fridge with the labeled tupperware to Sherlock’s constant working out to Sherlock avoiding eating and to his obvious tricks over dinner the other night. It was starting to click in his brain that Sherlock definitely had an eating disorder.  
  
That realization didn’t make him want to run, it may send many for the door but not John Watson. He also didn’t want to make their relationship about the eating disorder because that would be a mistake. But he wanted Sherlock to be healthy because it was important for not only Sherlock’s job but his well being.  
  
He ate his eggs in the kitchen before bringing two mugs of tea to the bedroom because he wasn’t sure how Sherlock would feel about watching him eat. The eating in bed could be weird too for people in general. He had to figure it all out.  
  
Sherlock was holding his tablet above his head, watching some dancing video on youtube.  
  
“Tea?”  
  
“Thank you.” Sherlock set the tablet aside before sitting up and taking the tea from John.  
  
“What were you watching?”  
  
“Spartacus.” Sherlock sipped the tea. “You didn't have to eat out there, my sheets aren’t very clean at the moment.” He ran his finger over the rim.  
  
John shrugged, “It’s all right, feels weird eating in other people’s bed when I don’t eat in my own.”  
  
Sherlock hummed and studied John, “You’re very preceptive, aren’t you John?”  
  
He tilted his head, “What do you mean?”  
  
Sherlock shook his head, “You see a lot more than most people do.”  
  
“That coming from you is saying a lot.” He put his mug down. “I might be more preceptive but I don’t know what you’re on about right now.”  
  
Sherlock chewed at his bottom lip. John didn’t want to force Sherlock to tell him because it was personal and their relationship was just beginning. “I’m just pointing it out to you.”  
  
“Right.” John pressed his lips to Sherlock’s.  
  
They spent the rest of the day in bed until John went home around eight to leave Sherlock to his preparations for his fast approaching auditions.  
  
John went home to study up on dealing with eating disorders, just so he was prepared.

***

Monday came and John was stuck with worrying about Sherlock all day. Not only was he worried about his audition but he was worried if he was eating enough.  
  
“John! Sherlock’s fainted,” Mrs Hudson was standing in the doorway of the physiosuite. “Can you come look after him until the paramedics arrive?”  
  
John’s heart was in his throat, “Yeah, of course. Do you know what happened?” He could have guessed but it was only right to ask.  
  
“He was going over a routine with the group and just collapsed.”  
  
“Did he hit his head?”  
  
“Possibly.” She looked worried as they made their way down to the studio. “He’s given us all such a fright.”  
  
When they finally made it into the studio, “I’m fine! Just let me up.” Sherlock was yelling at Irene, Josh, and Sally who were standing around him. The other dancers were all outside of the studio.  
  
“Fainted, did you?” John frowned down at Sherlock who had his arms folded on his chest.  
  
“I’m fine, dehydrated.” Sherlock went to sit up but John put his foot on his shoulder lightly.  
  
“If you knew you were dehydrated you should have drank some water.” Irene looked very annoyed with him.  
  
“Why don’t you all go and take a break? We should give Sherlock some space. I brought John down here to make sure he’s all right until the paramedics come.”  
  
“I refuse to go to hospital.” He snapped as the all left. “You’ve definitely figured it out now, haven’t you?” Sherlock said softly as John sat on the floor next to him.  
  
“Sherlock, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
“I think I should tell you about Jim.”  
  
“Ok, but, let’s do that tonight. The paramedics will be here soon.”  
  
“Yes, of course.” Sherlock cleared his throat.  
  
“Did you hit your head?”  
  
“No, I don’t have a concussion.”  
  
“Ok, making sure.”  
  
“I won’t go to hospital.” Sherlock sounded like a child.  
  
“If you think you’re ok, that’s fine but you shouldn’t dance anymore today.”  
  
“I have an audition.”  
  
“You just fainted.” John looked out of the studio’s glass front to see the paramedics coming.  
  
“I’ll be fine.”  
  
John just shook his head before greeting the men.  
  
Sherlock managed to get his way to audition, even though everyone didn’t think he should have.

***

After he was done for the day, Sherlock met John outside and they took a cab to Baker Street, mostly in silence. John was curious what Sherlock was going to tell him and what it all had to do with that pompous arse, Moriarty.  
  
“You don’t need to tell me.” John said once they settled on to Sherlock’s sofa.  
  
“You’re the first person that I’ve felt ok with telling, I want to tell you.” Sherlock fidgeted.  
  
“Ok, go on.” John encouraged.  
  
He stared blankly at the wall across the room for a few moments and John tried to not become impatient.  
  
Sherlock finally spoke in a low rumble, “I met Jim at the Upper School at The Royal Ballet when we were fifteen. He barely spoke to me and I mostly kept to myself, with an exception of Victor, who I started dating at sixteen. The summer after I turned seventeen I was asked to join the American Ballet as apart of the corps and Jim did as well. Mummy thought it best that we share a flat because I had never been out on my own. So we moved to New York before the season started.  
  
“Things were fine and we got on all right.” Sherlock took deep breath. “Then we started shagging… The sex was fantastic at first but eventually he just started taking without asking and most of the time I wasn’t interested because I was exhausted after dancing all day or I was just didn't want to go. I let it go because I always thought my libido was different than everyone else’s and thought it was just done in relationships. Plus, I loved being around him, he was brilliant and we could talk for hours about anything so I was afraid to drive him away.”  
  
John felt sick to his stomach. It was going to be hard to not chin Jim next time he saw him.  
  
“A year after we moved to New York and six months after we started our relationship, he began to tell me I was getting fat and I’d never be a Principal if I didn’t lose weight and that when I landed on any of my jumps I sounded like and elephant falling and he’d pinch the skin on my stomach while making some snide comment. I was also told that I had only got anywhere because Mummy knew Mrs Hudson, which is ridiculous.  
  
“In retrospect I know that he was worried about me moving up faster than him but I was young and naïve and I wanted his attention and his love because he was an amazing dancer and for some reason I thought he was an amazing person.  
  
“I started restricting myself to what I ate and I counted calories. I sat and figured out how many calories I would have to eat in order to just press through classes or rehearsals or performances everyday without dropping. The days I didn’t dance, I didn’t eat. I was constantly weighing myself and checking my BMI. It’s so stupid because I know how completely illogical it is for me to starve myself but that part of my mind seems to override the part I know what I am doing is not good.”  
  
It didn’t get past John that his tenses changed.  
  
“Eventually Jim brought cocaine into my life. I loved it. It gave me the energy I needed, that I was losing from not eating, and suppressed my appetite at the same time. My dancing was suffering, I was just sloppy. The choreographers and company director all told me to put on weight and to start getting my act together or they were going to dismiss me. I told Jim this and he said they were jealous and I was doing fantastic.  
  
“One day, a week after I turned twenty I came back from class early because I had gotten sick. Jim was there shagging one of the other dancers in our company. I was completely heartbroken, so idiotic. We had a row and he laughed in my face when I told him that I thought he loved me.  
  
“After that I’m not positive what happened. I apparently went out just to get away. The next thing I know I wake up in hospital with Mycroft and Mummy looking distraught. They told me that I was going to get help and I didn’t argue. They took care of things and it looks as if I disappeared for a year.  
  
“I spent six months at a rehab center in Sweden. They diagnosed me with depression, an anxiety disorder, and anorexia. I worked with a nutritionist to set up goals for getting back to a healthy weight and they gave me some medication for the depression and anxiety. I stopped taking the medication because it made things too fuzzy for me, I don’t know how else to explain it.  
  
“I returned to England after and lived with Mummy and Father. I worked out but I never over did it and I ate well, my recovery went smoother than anyone expected. Soon enough I had the chance to audition to be apart of The Royal Ballet and I’m sure that was thanks to my mother’s connections but I’ve earned the position that I hold now. I’m constantly asked to dance with other companies but I would have a hard time leaving here.”  
  
John touched Sherlock’s hand, “And now he’s back in your life?”  
  
Sherlock let out a strangled laugh, “And it’s all starting again. As soon as I figured out he was going to be here I got off my meal plan. I’ve been on this faithfully for five years and I haven’t done it for two weeks. Mycroft has someone cook me the major meals and protein for the week, I’m sure you saw it in the fridge, and I just throw out the food. I’m making myself so angry because I’m better than him and I don’t need to do this to myself but I feel so anxious when I eat. Like if I do it, I’ll lose my spot to him.” 

“Maybe you should try some different medications” John asked, rubbing his thumb along Sherlock’s knuckles before he decided to pull him in for a hug.  
  
He shrugged, “That made me feel oddly better, telling you. I’d rather not go back on them.”  
  
It was quiet for a few minutes, “We’re one hell of a pair.” John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s curls. “I do have PTSD, I’m sure you worked that out with the limp and all that. I get these nightmares… I swear I’m back in combat because they’re so real. I can smell the blood and gunfire. Sometimes I feel like I’m numb and then other times I get really angry or keyed up for no real reason. Sometimes I’ll feel like I’m in danger for no reason at all. Things have got better, I’m in therapy and working full time is great.  
  
“I know what you mean about it feeling stupid because something you know is irrational has a hold on you but that’s the brain, it can be a fucking bastard.”  
  
Sherlock sighed as John hugged him tighter.  
  
“I don’t want to tell you what to do because this is something you need to work out at your own rate but I’m here if you need anything. I just worry about your health because that’s important to me.”  
  
“I’ll be here if you wake up in the middle of the night with a nightmare.” Sherlock said quickly then paused. “I’ve thought of returning to my nutritionist but I don’t want to deal with how my family will react. They’ll demand to have me move back home but I can’t be constantly monitored like that. I have a binder of meal plans and I want to start going back to that. It has plans from the beginning of my treatment.”  
  
“That sounds like a good start.”  
  
Sherlock sat back and drummed his fingers on his lip, “I don’t think I did well enough to even dance in any of them. It was horrid. The worst audition I’ve had in ages, possibly ever.”  
  
“Maybe they’ll let you do it again? You were dehydrated.”  
  
Sherlock shook his head, “No, that’d be stupid.”  
  
“Ok, want some tea?”  
  
“Yes, actually that’d be nice.”  
  
“Again, I’m making things in your flat.” John laughed and stood up to go to the kitchen.  
  
“You seem to enjoy it, why stop you?” Sherlock had a hint of a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Series 3 Day!


	6. Balançoire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balançoire means seesaw or teeter-totter. A movement usually with grands battements or attitudes, in which a dancer swings his/her leg front (devant) and back (derrière) through first position.

Sherlock paced in front of Mrs Hudson’s office, it had been a week since auditions and they were going to be posting the line-ups at anytime.

It had not been an easy week. He managed to avoid John for the most part after telling him about his problems, he didn’t need that to think about on top of his terrible audition. It felt good to talk about it at first but the more he thought about it, he started to regret it.  
  
John tried to plan dates with him all week but Sherlock made excuses. He didn’t have the energy to deal with a relationship at the moment, no matter how good John was to him. That’s not to say he didn’t want to be with John. Because he did. He just needed some space.  
  
Jim had surprisingly left him alone for the week. He probably figured it was enough torture for Sherlock to worry about auditions.

It was. He wasn’t eating, well he was but it was only enough to make it through the day with out passing out again. It would look far to suspicious to everyone around him if he fainted more than once in a week - probably more than once in a span of weeks or months.  
  
“Sherlock, darling, can I talk to you?” Mrs Hudson popped her head out the door.  
  
This was not good, “Yes, Mrs Hudson.”  
  
He followed her inside and sat across from her grand desk.  
  
“Sherlock, are you ok?”  
  
He bit his cheek and nodded, “I was just dehydrated the other day.”  
  
“You’re… you’re not looking very healthy and I’m very concerned. I want you to take the season off. I can’t have you dancing in any of our productions this year.”  
  
Sherlock felt rage building in his chest, “That’s ridiculous.”  
  
“This is my company, you’re all my dancers. If you’d like to dance with another company for the time being, you may do so, but I can’t have you risking your own health here.”  
  
He felt like he couldn’t comprehend what was happening, “I’m the best dancer you have.”  
  
“When you’re taking care of yourself, you are.” She nodded. “You know that I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t care for you so much, Sherlock.”  
  
Sherlock sat there for a minute before storming off, leaving the studios and heading to his flat. He needed to be alone in order to figure out what he was going to do.  
  
Of course he couldn’t find any silence there, “Baby brother, Mrs Hudson just contacted me. I was in the area so I decided to drop by.”  
  
“Fantastic!” Sherlock yelled as he dropped to his couch. He didn’t dare look at his brother because he didn’t want to see any disappointment.  
  
“Do you need to return to the rehab facility?”  
  
The dancer grunted and turned so his back was to the room and Mycroft.  
  
“You need to talk to me.”  
  
“I do not need to talk to you, I am not under your care.”  
  
“I’m worried about you. I haven’t told Mummy or Father yet, I wanted to see what you needed first.”  
  
“I need you to leave me alone.”  
  
“I will do no such thing.”  
  
Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, as if it would make Mycroft disappear.  
  
“I’m going to make tea, do you want some?”  
  
“No.” Sherlock pressed his forehead into the cushion.  
  
He tried to think but his brain couldn’t piece together anything coherent, it was jumping from place to place. Nothing was sticking for more than five seconds at a time. His chest felt tight and he had the worst headache of his life. He needed to make it all stop. The last time he felt like this was when had found Jim in bed with that corps member. Everything was very quiet after he went out that night. He needed to go out, get out of his flat, out of his mind.  
  
When he sat up to leave John was standing there talking to Mycroft, _when had that happened?_  
  
“So, John Watson, I’m not sure what you’re doing here.” Mycroft studied John. He couldn’t have been in the flat for too long.  
  
“He’s here because I’ve been shagging him.” He said, mostly to make his brother uncomfortable. “I’m going out.”  
  
“No, you’re not.”  
  
“Want to go for a walk, fresh air might be nice?” John offered.  
  
“Alone.”  
  
Mycroft scoffed, “As if I’m going to let you out of my sight?”  
  
“Well, I don’t think smothering him is going to make it any better.”  
  
“Ah, a physiotherapist or a psychiatrist?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been dealing with my brother much longer than you, thank you, Mr Watson. I think you should be leaving now.”  
  
“I think you both should be leaving!” Sherlock waved towards the door.  
  
“No.” Mycroft shouted and John spoke calmly.  
  
“Mycroft, leave, now.”  
  
“I’m going to be telling Mummy and Father.”  
  
“Go ahead, I’m sure Mrs Hudson will have called Mummy anyway.” Sherlock folded his arms.  
  
“Please, Mr Watson, take care of Sherlock.”  
  
“I think he’s able to take care of himself, Mr Holmes.” John stood at ease but his posture had military written all over it.  
  
Mycroft looked extremely skeptical as he left, “I’ll be back with your food.”  
  
“Don’t bother.” Sherlock muttered as the door closed.  
  
John stayed where he was, clearly trying to decide if Sherlock wanted him to sit on the couch or not.  
  
“You didn’t get any of the spots?”  
  
“She’s not letting me dance this season, not until I am healthy. I’m healthy.” Sherlock said softly. He knew he was far from healthy.  
  
“Do you want to go out?”  
  
Sherlock stood up abruptly, “I want to go out and get high. Very doubtful you want to join me while doing that.”  
  
John nodded, “No, not really my thing.”  
  
Sherlock was shocked that John didn’t tell him not to go or plead with him to stay in the flat, “You’d just let me go?”  
  
“Everyone makes mistakes, everyone deals with things the wrong way from time to time.”  
  
For some reason it made Sherlock even more angry, “Are you not supposed to yell at me? Beg me to stay?”  
  
John shrugged, “Why? Would that work for you? You said you didn’t want to be smothered. I’ve been giving you distance this week and I just helped you get your brother out.”  
  
Sherlock began to pace, “I don’t know.”  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“I want to dance, that’s all I want but I’m not going to get it.”  
  
“There’s no where you can go?”  
  
Sherlock chewed at his lip, “I’m not sure. Paris offered me to come on as a guest.”  
  
“Maybe you should contact them?”  
  
He scrubbed his fingers through his hair.  
  
“Are you healthy enough to dance in Paris?” John took a seat in the plaid arm chair.  
  
“I can be.” Sherlock took a deep breath.  
  
“Ok, what do you need to do to be healthy?”  
  
“Go back through the old meal plans binder. As long as I start to do that now, it’s my room. I’ll get my laptop too so I can contact the director in Paris.”

Sherlock went towards his room then stopped in the middle of the kitchen. He turned on the balls of his feet and stalked back out to the living room where John was sitting, looking at a book on the history of ballet, “How’d you get me to to do that?”  
  
“Do what?” He put the book down.  
  
“Focus my train of thought, make me stop.”  
  
John just smiled, “Not sure.”  
  
“You did it on purpose, you did something?” Sherlock put his hands on his hips. “Tell me how?”  
  
“I don’t know, Sherlock, I just asked you questions. You’re the one that focused yourself. You could have completely ignored me if you really wanted to.”  
  
“You did something, you tricked me!” Sherlock threw his hands in the air.  
  
John chuckled, “You did it all yourself.”  
  
“Why are you here?”  
  
“I overheard Irene and Sally talking about you not getting any of the roles you went up for. I left after work and came straight here because I hadn’t seen you at all today. You normally drop in at least once. I wanted to make sure you were ok. We are… dating or something, right? It’s what you do.” John gave a brisk nod. “I’ll leave if you need me to.”  
  
“No, stay.” Sherlock held up a hand. “I want you to stay.”  
  
“Ok, that’s ok, that’s good.” John reached for Sherlock’s hand and twined their fingers together.  
  
“You’re a strange man, Watson.” Sherlock stood there, staring at John.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“You’re interested in me, like this, that’s why?”  
  
“I’m interested in you for more than you like this. You’re brilliant and you can be sweet when you’re not trying to be an arsehole.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, “I’m going to collect my things now.” Sherlock dropped John’s hand and went to his room.

***

Sherlock heaved into the toilet bowl then let out a low groan. Three days of trying to get back to health and he couldn’t stay with it. One sly word by Jim and there he was, trying to rid himself of all the food he had consumed since Monday.  
  
He needed to get out of London. He had to wait for word from Madame Coté on a day for auditions but that wouldn’t come until Friday. Only a few more days he had to work through, then.  
  
Sherlock flushed the toilet and sat down on the cool floor.  
  
“Sherlock, you all right?” John’s voice shattered the silence as it came through the door.  
  
Sherlock had forgot they were supposed to meet to go see a movie.  
  
“You can come in.”  
  
John hesitated a moment before opening the door. He looked at Sherlock questioningly, without a word.  
  
“I’ve fallen off the meal plan again.”  
  
The other man just sat down next to him.  
  
“You’re not going to say anything?” Sherlock asked after a few moments of silence.  
  
“Why should I?”  
  
“I just vomited.”  
  
“I don’t know why you did, even if I did I wouldn’t jump on you for it. You said you fell off the meal plan but that doesn’t mean it’s related.”  
  
Sherlock ran a hand over his face, “Once again, you amaze me.”  
  
“I’m not your mother or brother or father or nutritionist or therapist. I’m the guy you’re seeing, I’m here to help, not to lecture you.”  
  
“How come you don’t say boyfriend?”  
  
John crossed his legs, “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about the term.”  
  
“We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now, I think the term should be applied.”  
  
“That sounds good to me.” John smiled. “So, ah, why were you throwing up?”  
  
“I’m an anorexic, John, why do you think I was throwing up?”  
  
“There’s still a lot of reasons, aren’t there?”  
  
Sherlock considered, “Technically there’s only one, I have a disease.”  
  
“Which has triggers.” John countered. “You wouldn’t have done it just because. Well, maybe you would have, I’m not sure. But I’d bet money that something triggered this.”  
  
“Jim is an arsehole.” Sherlock didn’t elaborate because he felt that that was enough.  
  
“He really is bloody awful. I have a hard time not breaking his leg or something whenever he’s on my table.”  
  
Sherlock fought back his smile, “Oh, that’d be terrible.”  
  
John laughed, “Mmm, yes, horrible.”  
  
“If you did that, I would repay you with some fantastic shagging.”  
  
John shook his head, “No, that… god it’s tempting -”  
  
“But unprofessional.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And you’d probably be fired. I’ll be ok if you don’t do that.”  
  
“Good.” John kissed Sherlock on the cheek. “Come on then, let’s have a cuddle and watch a movie.”  
  
“I thought we were going out.”  
  
“I figured you wouldn’t feel like it… should I have not -”  
  
“No, no, I’d rather stay in. If you’d like to find a movie, I’ll…” Sherlock trailed off and gestured around him.  
  
“Right, ok, would you like some tea too?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
John stood up, “I’ll be out there.”  
  
Sherlock sighed as he watched John leave the bathroom. How did he deserve John Watson?

***

With Friday morning came a phone call from Madame Coté formally offering Sherlock an invitation to audition on Monday for Solor in La Bayadere. He accepted the invitation without thought. It wasn’t until he hung up that he realized that if he received the part he would have to leave John behind.  
  
After classes that day he went to the physiosuite where John was cleaning up for the day.

“Hey,” John smiled. “Did you get the audition in Paris?”  

Sherlock nodded, “Monday, would you come with me?”  
  
“You’d want me there?”  
  
“Obviously.”  
  
“I… I don’t know about work.”  
  
“Call in sick.”  
  
John scratched his head, “Yeah, ok.”  
  
“Perfect, we’ll make a weekend of it. They said I’m able to use the studio there to practice.”  
  
“So, we’re leaving today?”  
  
“As soon as you can.”  
  
John looked around, “It’s all clean here, so I just need to pack.”  
  
“Perfect, we’ll meet at Baker Street at 6, there’s a train leaving a 8, that’s plenty of time.”  
  
“Sounds good.”  
  
Sherlock nodded and left for his flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never dealt with anorexia personally so I hope I don't insult or upset anyone. I've done a lot of reading on it so I hope it's ok.


	7. Soutenu en Tournant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soutenu en tournant is a series of turns in quick succession. The dancer must first execute a demi plié while extending the leading leg in a tendu position and then stepping up on a tight leg and beginning the turn while simultaneously bringing the other leg up to a raised position while finishing a full 360 degree turn.

“Wow, this hotel is beautiful.” John collapsed on the plush king sized bed around eleven on Friday night. The whole hotel room was plush and opulent, not just the bed. John felt a bit out of place but it was all very romantic. “I may never leave.”  
  
“Surely they’d arrest you if you didn’t leave.” Sherlock was unpacking his things into the wardrobe. “Or you’ll be paying an exuberant amount of money to live here your entire life.”  
  
“I was just joking,” John rolled over to watch Sherlock. He frowned to himself over how skinny Sherlock looked but he was hoping this audition would do some good for him. If he came to Paris it could be good for his health. He wasn’t sure how their relationship would do but that was not the most important thing.  
  
“This is a nice holiday for two people who have only been together for about three weeks.” John said as Sherlock closed his suitcase.  
  
“It’s a working holiday. I want to go into the studio in the morning.”  
  
“Then you’ll be free in the afternoon, we could do some tourist stuff.”  
  
Sherlock made an upset noise, “I guess if that’s what you want.”  
  
“If you want to stay in I’ll go myself but I’m not wasting my time in Paris in a hotel room.” John moved on to his back and Sherlock climbed on to the bed, straddling John’s hips.  
  
“We could have a very good weekend in the room.” Sherlock leaned down to kiss John, placing his hands on both sides of John’s head.  
  
“I’m sure we can but Paris is outside, we should go enjoy it. Plus, did you only bring me here to play with in your room? I’m just some toy.” John teased but Sherlock frowned.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”  
  
“Oh, no, no… I… I know that’s not your plan.”  
  
“You do mean far more to me than just sex.”  
  
“I know that, Sherlock. I was just kidding… again.” John reached up and cupped Sherlock’s cheek.  
  
“I just don’t want you thinking I’m using you for any reason.”  
  
“Christ, Jim fucked you up.” John wanted to take the words back as soon as they fell from his mouth. He never wanted to say that out loud, it just sort of happened. “I’m sorry. Shit.” John closed his eyes. “I should never talk.”  
  
Sherlock rolled off of him and started… laughing?  
  
“You’re _LAUGHING_?”  
  
“You don’t skate around things, it’s fantastic.” Sherlock held his stomach has he continued with the laughing.  
  
“You’re not upset?”  
  
“Why should I be? I am fucked up and much of it has to do with Jim. I don’t know how to be in a relationship like a normal adult at the age of twenty-five. I’m constantly worried about gaining weight, even when I’m not feeling it like this, and even though I’m probably in perfect shape. Jim fucked me up.” Sherlock nodded with a giggle.  
  
John looked at him in shock.  
  
“Don’t worry, John, I’m not having a mental break. I’m just amazed that there are people out there like you, it’s fabulous. For the last five years, anyone who knew what happened to me, even vaguely has tried not to hurt my feelings or avoided telling me the whole truth about things. I enjoy when you speak your mind freely, it’s refreshing.”  
  
“That’s good then, I don’t have to censor myself.”  
  
“You shouldn’t, I enjoy feedback.”  
  
“You make everything sound like you’re dancing.”  
  
Sherlock just smiled.  
  
John moved to press his lips to Sherlock’s because it was far too tempting not to.  
  
“Where on earth did you come from? It’s amazing to think about how we ended up in the same room?”  
  
“Getting too philosophical.” He nuzzled the dancer’s neck.  
  
“It’s a very interesting thing to think about.”  
  
John could feel Sherlock ramping up to make a long speech about it, “It is but I think we should stop talking now and spend some of that time you want in the hotel bed.”  
  
“You’re brilliant. That’s a very good idea, John.” Sherlock’s hand went up John’s jumper and stroked his back.  
  
“‘Thought so.” He nipped at Sherlock’s skin before moving a stripping off his jumper.

***

The next day John decided to wake up early with Sherlock and go to the studio with him to stretch him out. “This is nice.” John looked around the studio as Sherlock threw his messenger bag down.  
  
“Not as nice as London.” Sherlock sat on the floor and started to change his shoes. “I appreciate you coming with me this morning.”  
  
“I want to help you, I’m not doing anything else. Why not sit here and watch you?” John kneeled next to him.

When Sherlock was all ready to start John asked, “How’s your knee, be honest?”  
  
“Honestly, it hurts.”  
  
John nodded as he stretched out Sherlock’s hamstring, “Maybe we should get some x-rays done?”  
  
“If I don’t get this job, sure.” Sherlock rolled his head to the side. “But let’s not think that way.”  
  
John snickered before switching legs, “I’m having a crisis of whether or not I want you to get this. I want you to get it because you’ll be happy and it’s what you love but on the other hand I don’t because I think you need some time off.” He hoped that it didn’t come out the wrong way.  
  
“Mmm, no other reason? Like it may be hard to have a long distance relationship?”  
  
“I wouldn’t want that to stop you because dancing is your thing. I can take the train every weekend if I have to.” John sat back and Sherlock sat up, stretching his long legs out in front of him.  
  
“You would do that?”  
  
“I think I like you enough, yeah.” John smiled. “I’d be sad to not have you around bugging me all the time in the physiosuite but I’d deal with it.”  
  
“I think I’d miss you. I enjoy having you around.” Sherlock said in a tone that sounded like he was forcing it out of himself.  
  
“We can video chat. You’d probably forget about me.”  
  
“I would have a hard time forgetting you. This is making me feel better.” He leaned forward and grabbed his ankles.  
  
John raised an eyebrow, “You were worried about it?”  
  
“I thought you’d might leave me if you had the chance.”  
  
John snorted, “I don’t give up very easily.”  
  
“Good, that’s very good.” Sherlock stood up with a flourish. “Stretch me at the barre, please. Then I’d like to start working. You can leave if you want.”  
  
“If you need me to leave I will but I’d like to stay and watch.”  
  
“I just didn’t want you to be bored.”  
  
“I don’t think I can be, with you.” John joined Sherlock at the barre.  
  
“As we discussed last night, I’m a mess, so obviously that’s not boring for you.”  
  
John shook his head, “Even if you weren’t a mess you’d be interesting.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“I’m positive.”  
  
Sherlock looked at him skeptically but then seemed to accept it, “Good.”  
  
“You’re more than your mess, I’ve told you this. Do you want me to sit here and list the what I find pleasing about you because I will?”  
  
“Please, god, no.” Sherlock put his leg up on the barre.  
  
“It would take me a while, glad you don’t want the list.” John grinned. “Now, you beautiful creature, what do you need me to do?”  
  
“You’re going to press my leg as far back as I say.”  
  
John cringed because he’s seen Sherlock do this before and it looked painful.

***

“You sew?” John asked late Sunday afternoon when he came out of the shower to find Sherlock in bed, sewing his shoes.  
  
Following Sherlock’s practicing the last two days they had gone out and enjoyed the city. Sherlock wasn’t a fan of the tourist thing but he endured it appeared. He had spent most of his time giving John history lessons. John hated how he spent much of his time worrying about when and what to eat when they were out but Sherlock was doing it, at least he made it look that way.  
  
“You need to learn how to sew your shoes when you’re wearing them out in less than a month.”  
  
“Less than a month?” John tried to do the math at how many shoes Sherlock had gone through in his life but it was too much to think about.  
  
“Dance belts, tights, shoes…it’s nearly endless. I stopped keeping a count over how many things I’ve had to throw away because of how worn they were. I suppose I could give you a good estimate though.”  
  
“Dance belts?”  
  
Sherlock laughed, “You still know so little about dance.”  
  
“What’s a dance belt?” John sat next to him.  
  
“It goes under my tights and keeps everything… together and tries to leave more to the imagination than underwear would.” Sherlock examined his shoe before putting it on his right foot and testing it out.  
  
“I see.” John nodded. “I never thought of all the, er, equipment you have to go through.”  
  
“Mmmhmm, when were you going to tell me you joined a rugby league with Lestrade?”  
  
John chuckled as Sherlock moved to his other shoe, “I didn’t know I had to.”  
  
“You don’t have to tell me anything, I just thought you’d like to share.”  
  
“You’ve been busy with your things, didn’t seem that important.”  
  
“Can I watch you play one day?”  
  
“It’s a brutish sport, I thought. Sure, you won’t hate it?”  
  
“I’m sure I will mostly but I’d love to see you in shorts being aggressive and getting muddy.” Sherlock licked his lips after threading his needle.  
  
“That turns you on, then.” 

“The shorts or the aggression or the mud?” He started to sew one of the elastics into the shoe.  
  
“The aggression.”  
  
“I find it pleasing from time to time.” Sherlock blushed. “Are the shorts and the mud obvious things to be turned on by?”  
  
“Aggression isn’t unobvious, I guess. I just didn’t know that about you.”  
  
“You figured since Jim, I’d want someone sweet and kind in bed? I wouldn’t want someone to take too much control.”  
  
John wasn’t sure what to say. He knew that Sherlock didn’t want him to censor himself but he also didn’t want to say anything he would regret.  
  
“That is rather obvious. Before you knew about Jim, the few times we slept together then, you treated me a bit differently. You were a little rougher. After you found out, you touch me as if I’m made of delicate crystal. You’re much more passive.”  
  
He hadn’t even known that he was doing that, “I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine. I can tell it was a subconscious thing.” Sherlock studied his shoe. “I feel like I can trust you, John, you don’t have to worry about going a bit… harder.” He moved on to sewing the other elastic.  
  
“Right, excellent.” John nodded, standing up from the bed to finish getting ready. “Be ready in about fifteen minutes.”  
  
“Mmm, dinner, yes.” Sherlock frowned as he finished with the shoe.  
  
“If you don’t want to...”  
  
“No, no, it’s fine. I need to eat.”  
  
John went back into the bathroom, trying not to worry about it.

***

John paced in the hotel room Monday morning, waiting for Sherlock to come back from his audition. He had showered, packed, went to breakfast, and then paced. This was important for Sherlock’s mental health and it worried him what would happened if it came back as a ‘no’. What would the next year be like?  
  
The door opened and Sherlock came in, dressed in his street clothes and carrying his bag over his shoulder.  
  
“How was it?”  
  
“Not my best but far better than the last.” He plopped the bag on the bed. “They’ve been courting me for sometime so I’m hoping that will help.”  
  
John grabbed him and pulled him in for a kiss.  
  
Sherlock moved away, “It’s time to go home. I’ll find out about this by the end of the week.” He went to his luggage.  
  
“What do you do til then?”  
  
“Mrs Hudson is letting me into the studio for limited hours, so I’ll be there.”

"I had a nice weekend." John grinned.

"I did too. Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d just like to mention some documentaries I’ve watched on dance to reacquaint myself with the whole scene…they’re all on Netflix: Ballets Russes (2005, this one is actually no longer on watch instantly but I highly recommend finding it if you’re into history and dance), First Position (2011, this is about young dancers trying to get scholarships or company positions via the Youth America Grand Prix), Never Stand Still (2011, I highly recommend this one because you get to see the creativity and the art of all different kinds of dance in the making at one of the most beautiful venues in the world.), and Fame High (2012, this one doesn’t focus much on ballet but there’s some and it’s generally an interesting documentary). I also have The Dancer (1994) in my queue but I haven’t got around to watching it yet but it has decent ratings.


	8. Sickle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sickle refers to the reverse of a winging of the foot. If a dancer sickles the foot on pointe or demi-pointe, the ankle could collapse to the outside resulting in a sprained ankle. If it is the working foot sickled, it will make the dancer look amateurish and untrained. Working foot to the side should be straight and mildly winged when foot is to the front or back.

Sherlock tied up his pointe shoes carefully. Men en pointe was normally done for humor in classical ballet with few exceptions but he had always liked the feeling of being on his toes. He had put together some of his own choreography but never really shared it with anyone. He was starting to think about maybe starting his own company, that could be a brilliant idea. He could do what he wanted and when he wanted without having to worry. He could hire John on as the company’s personal physiotherapist.  
  
“Didn’t know you could do this.” John’s voice echoed in the studio.  
  
Sherlock took attitude derriere near the barre, “I thought you left and of course I can.”  
  
“Your legs look rather beautiful like that.” John stepped closer. “No, I didn’t leave. We had a meeting.”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“Just how to deal with you lot during the season.”  
  
“That lot, I’m not included.”  
  
“Have you heard from Paris yet?”  
  
Sherlock shook his head before doing rond de jambe en l’air. It had been days ago that he auditioned and as the days passed he was starting to feel less confident about the results.  
  
“She said by Friday, so tomorrow.”  
  
“Come travel with me.” Sherlock came down for a moment before pulling up again.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m going to start a company of men ballet dancers en pointe.”  
  
John looked lost, “What, again?”  
  
“If I do not get this I want to start a company.” He took a deep breath. “I want to hire you to work for it.”  
  
“I thought you were going to take the year off if you didn’t get the part.” John sat down in the chair that was by the barre.  
  
“Do you think I’d actually sit still for that long?”  
  
“No but I thought…”  
  
“You thought I wanted to be healthier.”  
  
Health. Sherlock hadn’t been able to keep with his plans and when he did eat he mostly regretted it and purged as soon as he had a moment to himself. Stupid.  
  
“Sherlock-”  
  
“I’m getting healthier.” He moved across the floor.  
  
“I - your knee.”  
  
“It will be fine.”

John didn’t mean Sherlock’s knee, he knew exactly what John was thinking.  
  
He glanced at himself in the mirror and grimaced at how skinny he was. It’s not that he didn’t know being this thin wasn’t a good thing, it’s that it didn’t stick long enough in his brain. Which is ridiculous, because he didn’t find it hard to have everything else stick in his brain.  
  
“So, that’s what you want to do?”  
  
“I just want to dance, I don’t care how or where.”  
  
“Do it then.”  
  
“You’ll come with?”  
  
“Ha, I don’t know if it’s a good idea to work for someone you’re dating.”  
  
Sherlock came down flat and put his hands on his hips, “Why not?”  
  
“Not a good thing to do.” John shrugged.  
  
“I’d be gone for months possibly.”  
  
“Well, if it happened you’d first have to get the company together, fund it, and establish it before you go and dance.”  
  
John was right, Sherlock hadn’t thought about the work that he would do before and after he got to dance. But that didn’t mean he was going to let him win the argument, “You just don’t want to come with me.”  
  
“That’s not what I said. I would love to travel with you but I’d need to work and I don’t think working for you would be a good idea so until I could afford it I’d have to stay here.”  
  
“Right.” Sherlock huffed.  
  
“Ok, ah, want to go out tomorrow night? Maybe we could go Tango or something?”  
  
Sherlock took attitude again, staying silent.  
  
“Sure, all right, you got something on then?”  
  
“Yes, in fact, the dancers in the company are having a party so I’ll be there.”  
  
“Really, a party, I didn’t think that’s your thing?” John got up from the chair.  
  
“You mean a party with Jim isn’t my thing. I’ll be fine.” He wasn’t too sure about that but he was in the mood to get positively pissed.  
  
“Do you have anything on tonight?”  
  
“No, but I’d like to be alone, John.”  
  
“That’s fine… it’s all fine.” It obviously wasn’t but Sherlock was done with dealing with relationship things for the day so he continued to ignore John and dance.  
  
When he finished about an hour later John was gone, thankfully. He grabbed his things and made he way home to Baker Street.  
  
He knew his mother was there before he opened the door, he could smell her perfume from the stairs. He should have just turned around and left but the effort he had been putting into avoiding her was far too much already.  
  
“Mummy.” He said, entering the living room where she was watching the news.  
  
“Hello, my baby boy.”  
  
Sherlock gritted his teeth, “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I wanted to see how you were doing. It seems you’ve been ignoring all my other attempts at contacting you. How was the audition in Paris?”  
  
He bit his lip, “Fine.”  
  
“Mrs Hudson is right, though, love. You need to be healthy. Right now it doesn’t look as if you are.” She looked at his waist with a sour expression.  
  
“Mycroft is just worrying everyone.”  
  
“Are you eating?”  
  
“Mother.” He bit out.  
  
“I’m concerned. What are you to do if you must take the season off?”  
  
“I’ll figure something out.”  
  
“I think you should come home. We can make sure you get back to a healthy weight but you can practice in the studio and there won’t be any distractions.”  
  
“I’m not distracted.”  
  
“You’re seeing someone, it’s obviously had some effect on you.”  
  
Sherlock hadn’t told his mother or anyone but one of his therapist and John about Jim. His mum just knew there was a bad relationship with a fellow dancer.  
  
“It’s not John’s fault.” Sherlock rubbed his face. It was anyone but John Watson’s fault. If anything John could be a solution if he really let him be.  
  
“Mycroft said he came here after you got the news from Martha.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, “Yes.”  
  
“He said that he was a bit rude.”  
  
Sherlock snorted, “Mycroft was rude to him, I can assure you. John got me to stay home that night, Mummy. He’s why I got to audition in Paris.”  
  
“It’s no coincidence that your dancing has suffered.”  
  
“It’s not John, please stop accusing him.” Sherlock bristled.  
  
“He’s quite older than you, Mycroft said.”  
  
“Nearly nine years, it’s not a big deal.”  
  
She just hummed a response, “Shall we go to dinner?”  
  
“No, we shall not.” Sherlock tugged at his curls as he stalked into the kitchen. He needed to make tea. That was good ritual, calming. He liked listening to John do it, that was nice too.  
  
“You can’t starve yourself.”  
  
Sherlock slammed his mug on to the counter so hard it shattered, leaving him holding on the curved handle.  
  
“Sherlock! You gave me a fright.” She stood, clutching her chest.  
  
“I am not starving myself.” He gripped the counter. “Leave, now.”  
  
“I can’t leave you like this.”  
  
“You can and you will.” He looked at the blue ceramic covering the counter and floor in front of him.  
  
“Ok, that’s fine. But please think about coming home for a bit, love, it might be good.”  
  
He shook his head and tried to breathe calmly before his mother finally left.  
  
Sherlock cleaned up the mess then abandoned the tea for his violin. He got lost in the music for hours.  
  
Once he finally felt somewhat calm again he decided to call John. It was a bit unfair of how he had treated him earlier.  
  
Before he could dial he noticed a call from a number from Paris, “Hello, Sherlock. This is Madame Coté. I’m sorry but we are unable to give you the role of Solor this year. We’ve received word that you’re dealing with an eating disorder and it would not be good for us to have you on in this difficult time…”  
  
Sherlock threw his phone down and grabbed his coat then walked out into the night. He didn’t know where he wanted to go but he needed air, the flat felt as if it was about to close in on him. He thought about going to a club but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be around happy people at the moment.  
  
Before he had even realized it he was standing in front of John’s flat. “For Christ’s sake.” He pressed his fingers to his temples. Apparently his brain and body wanted to be with John far more than he was thinking.  
  
“Bugger.” He muttered again before pressing the button next to John’s flat. He pressed it a few more times before he heard John’s voice over the speaker.  
  
“Who is this and what the bloody hell are you doing?” He voice was thick with sleep.  
  
Sherlock hit the button that said ‘talk’, “It’s me.”  
  
“Oh, Sherlock - I’ll let you in.” The lock on the front door clicked open and Sherlock found John’s flat on the second floor. He was standing in the doorway, looking very worried.  
  
“Are you all right?” He pulled Sherlock inside the small flat.  
  
“Yes. No. Sorry, I don’t know exactly why I’m here… I just ended up here.”  
  
“Sure you know some where in the thick skull of yours.” He smiled.  
  
“May we go to your bed, I’m rather tired?” Sherlock toed off his shoes. He was suddenly exhausted.  
  
“Um, ok, this way.” John said but it was obvious where the bedroom was, there was only so much space.  
  
They made their way to the bedroom where Sherlock stripped down to his pants before joining John under the duvet. John rolled on to his side and rested his head on his hand, looking over Sherlock. “What happened?”  
  
“I - someone told them in Paris that I have an eating disorder and they refuse to take me on. I have a feeling that will happen wherever I go.” Sherlock closed his eyes.  
  
“Did Mrs Hudson tell them?”  
  
“No, I think it was Jim, somehow. Mrs Hudson told me I could dance elsewhere, she wouldn’t do that to me.” Sherlock hated that he felt like he was on the verge of crying.  
  
John rubbed his arm, “Do you need me to do anything?”  
  
“Just be here, that would all right.”  
  
John moved so he could cuddle with Sherlock. Sherlock was secretly pleased that John was a cuddler. “You know, this is the first time you’re sleeping here.”  
  
Sherlock nodded.  
  
“I wasn't expecting you, I would have at least cleaned up a bit.”  
  
“No, it’s nice, it’s you.” Sherlock sighed as John wrapped his arms around him. “Why did I come here?”  
  
“I don’t know, that’s something you have to answer yourself but I’m glad that you’re here. I’m not happy that it’s because you got bad news.”  
  
“My mother stopped by my flat today. Mycroft and her don’t believe you’re very good for me.”  
  
“What? No, that’s no good.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it, it doesn’t matter.”  
  
“Sure it does, I don’t want your family to hate me when they haven’t even met me properly. What happened with your brother wasn’t ideal - ”  
  
Sherlock scoffed and cut John off, “It’s fine, John.”  
  
“If you say so.”  
  
“Mummy doesn’t like that your older than me.”  
  
“She doesn’t?”  
  
“No but I rather like it, I’ve always been told I have an old soul and I’m too mature for my age.”  
  
“That’s good I guess.”  
  
It was quiet for a long stretch as John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, over his scalp lightly.  
  
“You’re going to be ok, Sherlock.” John said so quiet, he must have assumed that Sherlock was sleeping.  
  
“You’re very confident in that. You’ve known me for just over a month now.”  
  
“I guess I believe in you.” John kissed his chin.  
  
No one had ever said that to him before, it caused an odd flutter in his chest and stomach.

***

The next morning Sherlock ate an orange, slowly, in John’s bed as the other man showered and got ready for his day. He liked the smell of citrus and always thought of moving to Florida because he imagined it to as smell nice.  
  
“You look happy?” John came out, dressed and ready for work from his tiny bathroom.  
  
“Does Florida smell like citrus?”  
  
John looked even more confused.  
  
“I like the smell.”  
  
“Ha, I’m not sure, never been.”  
  
“Maybe I’ll travel there.” He popped the last wedge into his mouth.  
  
“You seem ok.”  
  
Sherlock took a moment before answering because he was unsure of what to say, “Ok, as in not suffering from a mental break down?”  
  
“Ah, yeah, basically.”  
  
Sherlock shrugged because he wasn’t sure why he was ok, none of it made any sense. He was even eating and talking lightly. He should have been locked in his flat composing a violin sonata to choreograph a dance to for hours on end. He should have been starving himself and possibly starting cocaine again. But instead he was in John’s bed… relaxing.  
  
“It’s good, though. As long as this isn’t your type of mental breakdown. If it is then I’d hope that you’d let me in on that.” John smiled before sitting down on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes. “You coming in today?”  
  
“Yes, I need to go home first to change but I’ll be in later.”  
  
“Have you decided what you’re going to do for the season?” John asked hesitantly.  
  
“No.” Sherlock didn’t want to think about it because he felt rather content at the moment. He didn’t want this secure bubble to burst. What he should have done was guilt John into staying home and they could have sat in bed all day, reading and eating oranges because once they left then it was all going to fall apart. Out there was expectations and demons and uncertainty but in John’s flat was just them and nothing else.  
  
“I’ll see you later, then. Come in so I can wrap your knee.” John pressed his lips to Sherlock’s temple.  
  
Sherlock agreed before John went on his way. He was tempted to just lounge about the rest of the day but he motivated himself enough to get up and join the world. By the next morning he knew he had made a terrible mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI all the ballet terms used can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glossary_of_ballet
> 
> ALSO: SHERLOCK DID A THING. SHERLOCK HOLMES DID A PIROUETTE IN THE SIGN OF THREE! HE LOVES DANCING. HE SAID IT. IT IS CANON! DID EVERYONE HEAR MY YELLING?


	9. Tombé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tombé is the act of falling. Typically a beginning movement.

John hit his alarm harder, for the fifth time, but the ringing wouldn’t stop. It was Saturday, he didn’t need to go to work or be up for anything important. Why on earth was it going off? He was about to throw the thing against the wall.  
  
Eventually his brain supplied him that it was his phone ringing and not his alarm, “‘Ello?” He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes.  
  
“John Watson?”  
  
“Mmm, yes?” He looked at the number but didn’t recognize it.  
  
“This is Mycroft Holmes. My brother wanted me to contact you to inform you that he is in the hospital.”  
  
John shot up from his bed, “What? Where is he?”  
  
“St Bart’s, he’d like to see you.”  
  
“What happened to him?” John tried to talk it down in his head, hoping he had just fainted in the wrong place because he wasn’t eating enough. Not that, that would be the best situation but it wouldn’t be too terrible because he had gone to that party last night with the rest of the company…  
  
“He overdosed last night, Mr Watson.”  
  
John swallowed a lump in his throat, “What?”  
  
“I’d appreciate it if you came here soon because Sherlock is being rather unreasonable and says he won’t do anything until you come.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll be there, soon. Tell him I’m on my way.”  
  
“I will do that.” The line went dead and John hurried to get ready.  
  
He didn’t want to let himself jump to conclusions about what had happened (there’s really only a few things that could have lead to this but he didn't want to think about it) so he tried to just to focus on Sherlock’s health on the ride to the hospital.  
  
It was seven in the morning on a Saturday so the commute there wasn’t held up by traffic. The hospital itself was fairly quiet too.

At reception he asked for Sherlock’s room but before the nurse could answer Mycroft Holmes appeared, “Very good, you’re here. His room is this way.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“I think Sherlock wants to tell you that himself.” Mycroft gestured to a closed door. “He’s waiting for you.”  
  
John took a deep breath before opening the door to find Sherlock lying in bed, tugging at his hair in obvious discomfort. “John!”  
  
“Sherlock… you overdosed? You’ve been using?” John didn’t mean to sound accusatory but he needed to know if he had completely missed the fact that Sherlock was doing drugs.  
  
“No… John I made a terrible mistake last night.” Sherlock grimaced when he sat up.  
  
“So what? The cocaine fell up your nose? Accidentally smoked some meth?” John clamped a hand over his mouth because that wasn’t the way he wanted to have this conversation.  
  
“No… I…” Sherlock groaned, sounding frustrated.  
  
“Could you explain it to me?”  
  
Sherlock chewed on his lip, “I went to the party I had told you about.”  
  
“Ok…”  
  
“I had quite a few drinks and I ended up talking to Jim and…” Sherlock took a deep breath. “He said I’m better with the cocaine. I dance better, I look better. I ended up taking too much and drinking too much. I may have also have had sex with him.”  
  
John took another deep breath and started to pace, “You know it’s all bullocks. Everything that comes out of his mouth is! You’re not better on drugs, you’re not better if you’re restricting what you eat, and you’re certainly not better with him.”  
  
“I’m… I’m sorry, John.”  
  
John stopped short as what Sherlock had said popped back into his head, “You may have also had sex?”  
  
“I wouldn’t have if -”  
  
“No, I don’t think you’re understanding what I’m trying to say.” John sat on the edge of Sherlock’s bed. “You don’t remember it properly so why do you think this?”  
  
Sherlock twisted his mouth, “I’m rather sore.”  
  
John put his head in his hands. He was going to murder Jim Moriarty, that was it.  
  
“I’m sure I mostly rejected him, John.”  
  
“I’m going to be sick.” John stood up.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Sherlock frowned and looked down to his lap as John came back towards the bed.  
  
“Don’t be sorry, Sherlock, not for that especially.” John grabbed the dancer’s hand. “You don’t remember at all, what happened?”  
  
“No… following my fifth drink… I think fifth… and second line it all became a very unclear. I was having a problem as it was, I shouldn’t have drank or been near him. You were right.”  
  
John shook his head, “Just… it’s ok. I forgive you, if that’s what you need for me to do.” He squeezed his hand. He was feeling rather strange about the whole thing. He felt like he should have been angry at Sherlock but he knew the reason why last night had happened. “Jim though… Jim… I am going to kill him.”  
  
Sherlock cocked his head to the side, “What?”  
  
“If you said no Sherlock - ”  
  
“But I may have said no or yes.”  
  
“You were smashed apparently, he shouldn’t have even tried. He’s a bloody bastard!”  
  
“I shouldn’t have let him into my head.” Sherlock clenched his jaw.  
  
“But you did and you have to deal with it now. You’ll get it right.”  
  
“You really do believe in me.”  
  
“Of course.” John laughed.  
  
“Even though I messed up quite a lot?”  
  
“Yes, Sherlock.”  
  
The door opened and an older woman came in looking very alarmed, “Sherlock, who is this?”  
  
“Mummy, this is John Watson.”  
  
John stood up straight.  
  
“Ah, you’re the man who’s distracting him.”  
  
“No! I’ve told you John is not a distraction.” Clearly he had missed that conversation. He hoped he wasn’t doing that to Sherlock  
  
“I’ll leave, if you need Sherlock.”  
  
“That would be nice,” and “No, you will not.” Were spoke at the same time.  
  
“John is not going anywhere and he has nothing to do with this. He advised me not to go to the party last night. Jim Moriarty is the problem.”  
  
John frowned because he thought Sherlock had already told his mom this.  
  
“He’s the dancer that I had problems with before and since he’s returned I’ve had a difficult time dealing with this. John has tried to encourage me to do the right things but I’m having difficulty doing so.”  
  
“That’s exactly why you’re going back to treatment.”  
  
“I will not!” Sherlock shouted. “John, tell her I won’t go.”  
  
John put his hand on the back of his neck, “It might be a good idea.”  
  
“I’m not going back to a rehab center.” Sherlock folded his arms. “I’ll live at the estate and do an outpatient type deal. I can’t dance at a facility.”  
  
John let out a sigh of relief.  
  
“Good, I’ll get started on the arrangements.” Mrs Holmes left them again.  
  
“She’ll let me see you, right?” John chuckled. “Because I don’t think that she likes me very much.”  
  
“I won’t commit to change unless she does.” Sherlock nodded.  
  
“I don’t like that you’re stringing your health along for me.”  
  
“Oh, please, John.”  
  
“Sherlock, it’s serious.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
John sat back down, “Are you feeling ok? I’m an arse for those not being the first words out of my mouth.”  
  
“I’m… I don’t feel very well but it will be all right.”  
  
“Yeah, it will be.” John assured him.

***

Monday morning, John went to work as if nothing had happened over the weekend and Sherlock wasn’t currently packing up his flat to move to the Holmes' estate outside of Cambridge for a year. No one talked about Sherlock in the physiosuite in the morning, so that was a decent start to the day but of course it couldn’t stay nice that long.  
  
He had been the only one in the room when Jim came in around noon, looking rather smug, “I need my ankle wrapped, Watson.”  
  
John gritted his teeth and reminded himself to be professional.  
  
“Pity about Sherlock, isn’t it?” Jim hopped on to the table as John went to get what he needed from the cabinet. “He’s such a pretty thing, isn’t he John?”  
  
“I’m unsure of what you’re talking about.” John literally bit his tongue to keep himself calm. If he punched him, he was probably going to be fired. It's his job to fix the dancers, not break them even more.  
  
“He’s something else when you get him high too, practically bursts at the seams to be fucked.”  
  
John stopped and looked up at the ceiling, “You need to leave.”  
  
“He mentioned you a lot the other night but seemed to forget you - ”  
  
“Shut up.” John turned around to see the man grinning like a maniac.  
  
“Oh, you like him. I don’t understand why you have much interest in him but I guess some people are attracted to those dirty little things. I know he’s - ”  
  
“GET OUT! GET RIGHT BLOODY NOW OR I WILL MAKE IT SO YOU NEVER DANCE AGAIN!” John stormed over to Jim and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “If you speak to Sherlock or about Sherlock near me ever again I won’t have so much control.” He pushed him back on to the table with enough force to knock some wind out of him.  
  
“My, my Watson, you’re quick to care for someone you know so little about.” John clenched his fists as Jim collected himself and got off the table. “You barely know him.”  
  
“You’re not going to get into my head, I won’t let you in.” John punched his fist onto the table.  
  
Jim smiled churned John’s stomach, “Have a brillant day, John.”  
  
John took a deep breath as Molly walked into the suite and Jim left, “You all right?”  
  
“Fine, thanks Molls.”  
  
She smiled but looked unsure, “Really because you’re all red and I heard yelling?” Her voice got quieter the more she spoke.  
  
“It’s… nothing.”  
  
“Is it Sherlock?”  
  
“No, no way. Why would it be?”  
  
“Ok.” She didn’t believe him again but went to do her work.

***

As soon as he got out of work John went over to Sherlock’s apartment because he was asked to come over 'ASAP'.  
  
“You’re tense, what happened at work?” Sherlock plucked a string on his violin..  
  
John looked around the flat, “Haven’t you packed? Your mum is going to be here early tomorrow.”  
  
Sherlock pointed to his room, “I packed the clothes and shoes I needed, I don’t need anything else. I have a room there and I’ll be keeping the flat. I’ll be gone for some time but I’m hoping to prove that I can leave sooner rather than later. I’m also not in prison. If there’s something here I wish to have I can get it or you can bring it to me.”  
  
“I can bring it to you?” John sat on the couch, which was cluttered with books.  
  
“Well, yes, I was going to give you a key.” Sherlock put his violin in the case.  
  
“That’s normally a big step in a relationship. We’ve just been dating a month now.” He said as Sherlock came to sit next to him, moving more books out of the way.  
  
“It’s not as if we’re living together, I’m moving about an hour and forty-five minutes away... depending on modes of transportation.”  
  
“True.” John kicked his shoes off. “You asked me to come over, so what did you want?”  
  
“To give you the key and to ask you what, if anything, the others are saying about me.” Sherlock’s eyes danced over John’s face. John knew he was trying deduce anything. “You’re stressed out and aggravated. You may be stressed because I’m leaving tomorrow but it’s more likely to do with something that happened today at work because you’re happy that I’m going to be getting help. Not to mention you have a tick in the corner of your mouth when you’re trying to keep a poker face.” Sherlock pointed to John’s lips.  
  
“You’re too good.” John scoffed and shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything from the other dancers but Jim came in when I was there alone around lunch time and he was just a dick.”  
  
“I’m somewhat disappointed I wasn’t there to see you lose your temper.” Sherlock looked sad as he moved so he was partially sitting on John with his head on his shoulder.  
  
“I don’t enjoy losing my temper.” John rested his head on top of Sherlock’s.  
  
“I feel like it’d be a very interesting thing to see.” Sherlock paused, “What did Jim say and did you punch him?”  
  
“He was just being cruel but I didn't punch him.”  
  
“Clearly he talked about what I was like Friday night.”  
  
“What he wants me to think you were like but I don’t believe him.”  
  
“You don’t believe him much. Who’s to say he’s not right?”  
  
John did consider that Jim had some truth to his terrible words but he didn’t want to believe that Sherlock forgot about him.  
  
“There’s your doubt.” Sherlock sighed. “It’s ok to think that of me, John.”  
  
“He was disgusting and said terrible things that I don’t believe.”  
  
“Except for maybe something.”  
  
“Sherlock, just stop, all right?”  
  
Sherlock huffed but agreed, “Are you going to have dinner here?”  
  
“I don’t know, why?”  
  
“I was thinking about eating.”  
  
“What would you like?”  
  
“Once you choose, I’ll see if there’s something I want. There’s too many possibilities right now.”  
  
John nodded.  
  
“Will you stay here tonight?”  
  
“Of course I will. I brought some clothes with me because I was hoping you’d ask.” John kissed the top of Sherlock’s head and buried his nose in his curls for a moment.  
  
“Excellent, you can wake me up for Mummy before you leave then.”  
  
“I’ll do that.” John nudged at the dancer’s cheek so he would move to kiss him properly.

***

The next morning he woke up an hour before his alarm and where Sherlock had been the night before was a cold spot. John groaned and pushed himself out of bed to look for him, it was too early for any crisis.  
  
He found him in the living room sitting cross-legged with his hands under his chin in a prayer pose. He eyes snapped open when he realized John was standing in front of him.  
  
“John, what if this changes us?”  
  
John took a seat in one of the arm chairs, “Well, it’d be good, wouldn’t it?”  
  
“What if you don’t like how I change?”  
  
“You’ll be healthy.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, “What if when I’m away you realize that you really don’t like being around me?”  
  
“You’re being rather absurd again, aren’t you?”  
  
“I’m just curious.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it, Sherlock.” John smiled before moving so he was sitting across from him at eye level.  
  
“I’m worried because I’m worried that I believe I love you.” Sherlock frowned deeply with his eyes closed. “Don’t say a word because I’m not sure.”  
  
John swallowed hard, “I won’t.” John was happy they weren’t going to talk about it because he thought it was far too early for that.  
  
“Good.”  
  
“But I have a question, are you worried you love me or worried you’ll fall out of love with me if you’re not constantly around me?”  
  
“Possibly both.” Sherlock opened his eyes again.  
  
He sighed loudly, “What ever you figure out will be for the best.”  
  
“That’s not very promising because I’ve made some terrible life choices.” Sherlock touched the bruise from where the IV was stuck on his hand days ago.  
  
“You need to believe in yourself a bit more.”  
  
“One of the words most associated with me is cocky.”  
  
“Maybe in dancing but in other areas of your life, not so much.”  
  
“But you believe in me in those areas.”  
  
“I do, Sherlock. Whatever you think, truly, is right, with all this is. You know that Jim is wrong and you don’t really believe in anything he’s happened to put you on the path for. You know what’s right and wrong, you just need some self confidence in your personal life.”  
  
“Thank you.” Sherlock reached out for John’s hand. “You are… you are a conductor of light.”  
  
“That’s an interesting but nice compliment.” John kissed the back of Sherlock’s hand.  
  
“You should start getting ready for the day. No doubt Mummy will be here early.”  
  
John practically jumped up, he didn’t want to make a bad impression on Mrs Holmes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was getting myself confused of when this all was happening so if you're interested in the timeline thus far here you go: http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c76/XoXSundayBest/Aplomb1_zps0d094c5e.png


	10. Chaînés

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a common abbreviation for tours chaînés déboulés, which is a series of quick 360 degree complete rotation turns on alternating feet with progression, or chain, along a straight line or circle. The majority of the revolution is completed on the leading foot with the remainder on the trailing foot when it closes in first position.

Sherlock looked at the fruit in the bowl and frowned, how exactly was he supposed to make himself a smoothie without any oranges or bananas? He needed at least one of the kinds. Ridiculous.  
  
One full week of being home and doing various kinds of therapy he was eating fruit without prompting from someone else every so often. John was happy when Sherlock had told him about it yesterday. He was doing his best to take the whole thing seriously because last time he rejected the help for sometime and it took longer than he had wanted to get better. He didn’t want to be stuck in his parent’s place for the entire year.  
  
“Mr Holmes, would you like me to make you anything?” The cook came in to the kitchen, grinning. He always seemed happy to have people eating, Sherlock found it very annoying. “It’s almost lunch time for your mother. I could make you a plate of what she’s having.”  
  
“No, Charles, I’m just going to make a smoothie for myself. Why don’t we have any oranges or bananas?”  
  
“You ate them all, Mr Holmes. I’ll be sure to pick some up tomorrow though. They’ll be the first things on my list.”  
  
Sherlock nodded and considered what else he could make, “Thank you. Are there strawberries?”  
  
Charles smiled, “Yes, they're in the fridge. Are you sure you don’t want me to make it?”  
  
“No.” Sherlock liked the process of making the smoothie. It was one of the first things he had made for himself after the last time it had got this bad. It was calming.  
  
“Ok, let me know if you need anything, I’ll be in the pantry writing a shopping list.”  
  
After making his smoothie he went to the library and waited for his therapy session to begin at one. Psychotherapy was the worst thing he had to deal with because he was never very good at dealing with his own emotions or opening up. A therapist once told him that his eat disorder most likely came about not from Jim’s pressure but from his own inability to deal with his emotions properly.

> Therapy soon, right? Good luck, know it’s your favorite : )

Sherlock smiled down at his phone when he saw John was texting him. He wasn’t sure why he was smiling at text messages, that was strange. It was possibly because he loved John Watson. Well, possibly loved John Watson.

> Yes. Thank you. Will you call tonight? - SH

Of course he was going to call, John always called around nine. Every night over the last week John called and they managed to talk for hours. Sherlock filled a lot of time with dance talk, educating John was still extremely important to him. He needed to know more about it if he wanted to do well treating the other dancers.

> As you say, obviously
> 
> Very good. Have a good lunch - SH
> 
> Have a good session

Sherlock tucked his phone in his pocket and logged on to his laptop. He had started taking up reading this online blog from this man in Sweden who had put together on the decomposition of various thing (people, food, animals, objects). His mother found him reading the site a night ago and asked him if he was going to kill someone. Of course he wasn’t going to kill anyone, it was just interesting. He had told John about it and John just laughed and told him that he would be suited for a career in crime if he wasn’t a dancer.  
  
“Hello, Sherlock.” Abigail, the therapist, greeted him as she entered the room. She was average height with dishwater blonde hair and blue eyes. “Are you ready to get going today?”  
  
“Yes, are you? You’re wearing the same jeans you were yesterday.” Sherlock cocked an eyebrow as he took a seat on the couch and Abigail pulled up the chair.  
  
She set her recorder on the table between them, “You know full well, Mr Holmes, that you won’t throw me off by your deductions, you’ve tried.” Numerous times but Abigail was very focused and didn’t care what Sherlock saw on her one bit.  
  
“So, we’ve talked a lot about Jim and your relationship with him the two times I saw you last and how that’s effected you but you have a new boyfriend, don’t you?”  
  
Sherlock nodded, “I hardly see how that has anything to do with my eating disorder.”  
  
“It’s certainly difficult to have a relationship after what you went through with Jim. Did you have one before John?”  
  
“Other than one night stands? No.”  
  
“One night stands aren’t relationships.” Abigail folded her hands and rested them on her knee.  
  
“Not true. A relationship is defined as -”  
  
“Sherlock, come on now, you told me you wanted to take this seriously.” Abigail shook her head. “You know what I’m talking about when I say a relationship because you said ‘other than one night stands’. So Jim and John are it?  
  
“Victor as well.”  
  
“Yes, Victor as well before Jim but that’s not what I asked you about.” She paused. “So you waited how long between Jim and John?”  
  
“5 years.”  
  
“That’s quite sometime isn’t it?”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
“Were you pursing relationships?”  
  
“No.” Sherlock studied his nail beds.  
  
“Why’s that?”  
  
“Most people aren’t worth the time.”  
  
“Why is John worth the time?”  
  
Sherlock frowned because after almost two months he still didn’t know what it was exactly about John Watson he felt that he loved outside of his pleasing symmetry and interest in what Sherlock was saying. There must have been more. There had to be.  
  
“Just tell me what you think about, why he’s worth your time.”  
  
“He’s good looking.”  
  
Abigail smiled, “That’s superficial, that’s why you have one night stands, yeah?”  
  
“He finds me interesting and I think he’s very interesting.”  
  
“Did Jim find you interesting?”  
  
“To some extent, he focused so much attention on me.”  
  
“He thought you were a threat, you said that our first session. The type of attention would be different. The way he finds you interesting compared to John, that’s different, right?”  
  
Sherlock nodded.  
  
“What else do you like about John?”  
  
He took a deep breath and thought for what seemed like a very long time to himself, “He’s very kind and smart. He makes tea for me, the way I like. He doesn’t push for me to tell him things even when he knows that something is bothering me. We are comfortable in silence. John’s very funny too, he makes a lot of jokes. I like sleeping with him, sexually and otherwise. He doesn’t make everything about dance or my health. He wants me to be healthy but he tries not to become obsessive.”  
  
Abigail made note in a black note pad, “Did you love Jim?”  
  
“I thought I did.”  
  
“And John?”  
  
“I think I do.” Sherlock continued to stare at his hands.  
  
“Do you know why you won’t let yourself love John?”  
  
“I haven’t made the choice yet.” Sherlock bit at his cuticle on his thumb.  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
Sherlock was unsure of what to say because it wasn’t that he wouldn’t let himself love John, it was just that he was unsure if he did. But why was he unsure?  
  
“What was it like loving Jim?”  
  
“Consuming.”  
  
“Did that put a lot of stress on you?”  
  
“Yes. It was hard balancing everything.”  
  
“Is it like that with John?”  
  
“No, that’s part of the reason I’m unsure. Was I really in love before with Jim or is this real with John?”  
  
Abigail sighed, “I’m not sure if I can answer that.”  
  
“I wasn’t looking for an answer, it was rhetorical.” He snapped.  
  
“All right, all right.” She put her hands up. “I can tell you that what you had with Jim was very unhealthy.”  
  
“What I have with John, is it unhealthy?”  
  
She shrugged, “I’m not sure yet, we haven’t got too in depth about it, have we?”  
  
“No and I have a feeling that we’re going to.”  
  
She laughed, “Yeah, well we have to. I’m here at least twice a week for the next who knows.”  
  
“Fantastic…”  
  
The rest of the session was spent talking about his destructive behaviors but he was left thinking about John and what he needed to know that he loved him. At least he had plenty of time to think about it.

***

The next morning he was stretching in the sitting room when his mother walked in, smiling, “What are you so happy about?”  
  
“Nothing, I just missed you here. Granted, I don’t enjoy the reason you’re here but…” She shrugged. “Your father is coming home from Prauge tomorrow, by the way.”  
  
“Lovely.” Sherlock rolled his head. “He can look at me with disappointment as well.”  
  
Mummy shook her head, “I’m not disappointed.”  
  
“Mycroft is. You were, maybe not now. Father will come home fresh with it.” He groaned and threw himself back on the floor.  
  
“You’re so dramatic.” She took a seat.  
  
“Are you ever going to leave me alone in this house?” He decided to change the subject.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Could we arrange a weekend or something because I’d very much like John to come for a visit?”  
  
“John doesn’t want to visit with me around?”  
  
“Oh, no, he goes on and on about how he wants to properly meet you all but it’s early in our relationship so I'm not sure it's best but I would very much like to shag him. I doubt he’ll do so with you anywhere on the property because he’s so… proper about that stuff.”  
  
“Sherlock, please.” She said, sounding scandalized.  
  
“You shouldn’t be shocked that I’m having sex with my boyfriend.”  
  
“May we please stop talking about it?”  
  
He sighed, “Well, will you?”  
  
“Will I leave you here to… to… so you can… sleep with your boyfriend? Certainly not.”  
  
Sherlock pouted.  
  
“Don’t even try, you’ve got your way with that pout too many times. You can’t fool me anymore.”  
  
“Fine.” He pulled his right knee to his chest and held it.  
  
“Do you love this John Watson?”  
  
“I’m unsure, maybe if you leave -”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You’re really going to force John into properly meeting you before he’s ready?”  
  
“I need to know he’s good enough for you.”  
  
“Is that not up to me?” He switched legs.  
  
“Partly.”  
  
“I’m not a child.”  
  
She raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure about that?”  
  
“Is that why you don’t want me dating someone who’s older than me? You don’t believe I’m mature enough?”  
  
“Not emotionally. You’re brilliant, love, but you’re not very stable. You’re almost a child.”  
  
Sherlock bit his lip.

***

Later that night Sherlock waited for John to call in his bed, just like every other night. He hadn’t talked to John about what Abigail had brought up the last session and he didn’t want to talk about how his mother thought ht was emotionally stunted. But he probably should have, just to prove to his mother that he wasn’t not stunted.  
  
He grabbed his phone as soon as it buzzed next to him, “John.”  
  
“Hello, how was your day?”  
  
“I was with the nutritionist today and I did some composing.” Sherlock stretched out on his bed.  
  
“Sounds nice. I had a decent day, I didn’t see Jim once so that’s good.”  
  
They were quiet for a second, “Mummy would like to meet you properly.”  
  
“Yeah? When?”  
  
“Whenever you’d like, she didn’t give me a date. I’m sure I can check for her when the best time is.”  
  
“Um, ok, I’d like to see you soon so maybe this weekend or next?”  
  
“I’ll talk to her and then I’ll let you know about that.” Sherlock thought about what else he needed to tell John. “I ate a whole bowl of salad today.”  
  
John laughed, “You don’t need to tell me everything you ate, I’m not your food diary.”  
  
“I thought you wanted to know I’m healthy.”

"I do but you don't have to tell me, I could see."  
  
“Right, and how do we do that?”  
  
“We could video chat, I can see how you’re looking.” John sounded like he was smiling. Sherlock always thought it was odd when someone said that they could hear a smile but with John he felt like he understood.  
  
“We could but I don’t have much faith in you figuring out how to use the camera on your laptop." Sherlock reached for his Macbook on the side table.  
  
“You’re a cheeky bastard.”  
  
“I’ve been told… by you… many times in only two months.”  
  
John laughed, “Ok, I turned on my computer. Tell this old man about your new fangled technology.”  
  
Sherlock chuckled before instructing John had to use his webcam until he was looking at his expressive face on his computer. “I’m very happy I have a fifteen-inch screen.”  
  
“I’m just happy to see your face.”  
  
“Do I look healthy?”  
  
“You look beautiful.” John grinned.  
  
Sherlock missed John even more when he could see him, strange.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
He tried to cover up whatever he was giving away, “Nothing, tell me more about everyone in the physiosuite. I want to know all the injuries.”  
  
John laughed again before starting with Sally’s on going ankle problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This is the most subscribers I've ever had on any of my stories so far. I'm so happy you all seem to like it... can't believe I nearly deleted this with I got a new computer!


	11. Piqué

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piqué or literally "pricked". A movement in which the strongly pointed toe of the lifted and extended leg sharply lowers to hit the floor then immediately rebounds upward.

John woke up to his heart pounding and sweat covering his whole body. Bloody nightmares again. They had gone away when Sherlock was around but after not seeing him for over three weeks they were back, with force. Luckily he wasn’t limping around again and his hand wasn’t shaking, that would have been horrible and inconvenient. People would also start asking questions then.  
  
He could deal with bad dreams, he just had to breathe through it and remind himself it’s not real. But they felt real. He didn’t sleep much the rest of the night either when he had those nightmares.  
  
It wasn’t just the dreams either, the back fire of a car in the street sounded like gun shot the other day and it felt real in the middle of the day on a busy street in London. He ducked into an alleyway and had a panic attack. That wasn’t a very good day. He was so keyed up he couldn’t sleep at all that night.

Of course he never told Sherlock all this because he was working on himself right now, didn’t need John to worry about.  
  
At least after work he was going to get to see Sherlock, maybe that would do some good for him for a bit.  
  
The other day during his therapy Ella was concerned with how much he depended on Sherlock, “I’m worried you rely on Sherlock too much for your own recovery.”  
  
He had waved her off but truth be told he had worried about that before. He didn’t like that his symptoms seemed to disappear with Sherlock around but came back when he was gone. He worried he’d be too dependent on the man. He never depended on anyone and he certainly didn’t want to have to depend on Sherlock who had his own emotional baggage.  
  
John wondered if Sherlock could love him. If he had been hurt like Sherlock was by Jim he would probably block out anyone who wanted to get close. It seemed amazing that their relationship had gone so far.  
  
Eventually he managed to drift back to sleep and before he knew it his alarm was blaring to wake him up.

 

***

John muddled through the day, mostly focusing on four o’clock.  
  
After rehearsal wrapped up around three most of the dancers were in the physiosuite getting worked on. Apparently the show Spartacus was a tough one. Sherlock said it was one of the most demanding for the male leads.  
  
Of course Jim was there, being Spartacus and all, and John managed to pull the short straw and get stuck with him.  
  
“I oddly miss Sherlock.” Sally said as Molly massaged her leg. “Not the same without him picking us all apart. I thought I’d like the quiet.”  
  
John kept his head down as he got what he needed to ice Jim’s shoulder.  
  
“I’m sure he doesn’t miss any of us.” Irene chuckled as she wrapped up her own ankle.  
  
“I’m sure he misses John, isn’t that right?” Jim trilled and John felt his face get hot.  
  
“Not sure what you’re trying to say.” He took a deep breath before moving back to where Jim was. All the dancers and his colleagues were looking at him, well trying not to look at him but they were anyway.  
  
“I’m saying that you and Sherlock were shagging, weren’t you?”  
  
“I don’t know why you would say such a thing.” He fiddled with the bag of ice.  
  
“Hmm, sure.” Jim sighed. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? No one knows where he ran off to after not getting a part and completely going barmy.”  
  
“He’s at his parent’s home, taking some time off. I think he has the right idea, you lot drive me right round the twist.” Irene said defensively. Sherlock always said that he and Irene ‘understood’ each other and that they were partnered numerous times because of it. It didn’t surprise him that she knew where Sherlock was.  
  
“Well, he should know that’s what happens when you starve yourself and overdose. You don’t get a part. We all know it happened to him before. Silly boy didn’t learn from his mistakes.” Jim sniffed as John wrapped his shoulder to keep the ice in place.  
  
John was trying to breathe still.  
  
“Bugger off Jim, no matter what, Sherlock is a better dancer than you. Plenty of dancers struggle with their weight and drugs too.” Sally’s voice surprised him because Sally and Sherlock were always arguing when they were around one another near John.  
  
“What do you think John?” Jim narrowed his eyes on him as he finished up.  
  
“I think you’re a bastard.” John regretted saying it out loud, it had meant to be a thought.  
  
Sally made a ‘whooping’ sound, “Thank god someone’s finally said it.”  
  
“You’re only jealous because I had him first.” Jim grinned in that evil way of his. John wanted to slap it right off his face.  
  
John rolled his eyes, “I’ve got nothing to be jealous of because there’s nothing on with Sherlock and I. We’re just friends. Is he not allowed to get on with people?”  
  
“No.” Everyone said at once.  
  
“You’re a rare exception.” Greg nodded as everyone but his co-workers, Sally, Irene, and Jim started to filter out. “When you told him something was wrong with him he never argued with you like he did with the rest of us, it was odd. Not that I thought you were shagging him, to be clear, mate. Just a friend is strange.”  
  
John always felt sad for Sherlock that he kept everyone so distant from himself because of Jim.  
  
“Still think you’re jealous.” Jim sort of sang.  
  
“You know, Jim -” John stopped himself and shook his head. “Never mind.”  
  
“No, I’m very interested, we all are.”  
  
“I would be jealous… no I am jealous that you knew him before you broke him down and completely crumbled his foundation because he’s perfect and he doesn’t think he is. I know you all talk shit about him because he can be a prick but he’s vulnerable, obviously.  It’s like a defense mechanism. I -” John stopped himself again.  
  
“No, please go on.” Jim urged.  
  
“The only reason he’s a prick is because of you, he doesn’t let anyone close to him because you fucked him up when he was young and naive.”  
  
“Well, well, well, you’ve rather shown your hand there, Watson.”  
  
John shrugged, “Fuck it, we’re dating. We’re not just shagging, ok? You can go tell everyone in the company because I’m done with you trying to bait me. You won this one. I was the one that didn’t want to let it out because I was afraid of what people would say about me sleeping with someone I was treating but I don’t really care right now.”  
  
“Even after his little night out a few weeks back? I wasn’t just me he shagged, you know.” John heart dropped.  
  
“You can go to hell, Jim.” John looked to Greg, who gave him a look to say he didn’t really care about what was happening at the moment. “Is it all right if I leave now? I’ve a train to catch. To Cambridge. To see Sherlock. And his family.”  
  
Greg laughed, “Yeah, go on, we’ll clean up here. Have a good weekend.”

 

***

John left as fast as he could. He spent the entire ride to Cambridge thinking of what Jim had said about not being the only person Sherlock was with the night. He didn’t want to believe it but anything could be true. Sherlock could barely remember the night. He wasn’t even sure about sleeping with Jim. He also hoped that Sherlock wasn’t going to be too angry with what had happened in the suite.  
  
When he arrived at the station Sherlock was waiting on the platform for him, arms behind his back, looking impatient as ever.  
  
“John!” The dancer lit up as soon as he saw John making his way to him.  
  
“Hey.” John grabbed him and pulled him into a hug as soon as they were in arm’s reach. He was still too skinny but looked better, more relaxed than when he had last seen him. There was color in his cheeks and some light in his eyes.  
  
“What happened today? You’re tense. Are you nervous about meeting my family?”  
  
John laughed as he pulled away, “Come on, I’ll tell you on the drive to your house.”  
  
Sherlock nodded and basically dragged him to his car. It was weird seeing Sherlock drive because he had never thought of him getting behind the wheel of a car before. He always thought of Sherlock as a city dweller who took cabs everywhere.  
  
“Tell me.” Sherlock demanded. “What happened today?”  
  
John explained the entire conversation and situation with Jim, even including the part where he said Sherlock had shagged someone else.  
  
“I wish I could have seen the look on everyone’s faces.” Sherlock snickered. “You’re unhappy though, is it because you think I was with someone else?”  
  
“Were you?”  
  
“I don’t think I was but I can’t be sure.”  
  
John sighed, “It’s ok.”  
  
“It’s not, you want to know.”  
  
“I do but it’s not going to change anything. You had a relapse and had a very bad night. I can’t hold it against you.”  
  
“But you do.”  
  
“Sherlock, I don’t want this to be a problem this weekend. I missed you so much this last month, I just want to with you.” He was scared that if they talked about it, it wouldn’t end well. He had a feeling that Sherlock wouldn’t take any type of confrontation in a relationship well. At least over the phone he could have space.  
  
“Ok.” Sherlock turned down a very long drive way. At first John thought it was a road until he saw the bloody estate in front of them. It was a bit of a shock.  
  
“You grew up here?” John changed the subject as a new type of fear came up.  
  
Sherlock nodded as he parked, “Come on, no doubt they’re waiting for us.”  
  
“Should I be worried?”  
  
“You keep asking me that.” He rolled his eyes.  
  
“You barely talk about them, especially your dad.”  
  
“They’re perfectly fine people, you’ll like them.” Sherlock pulled John’s bag from the back seat. “I was told to leave you bag with Carlton and bring you to the drawing room where they’re chatting before dinner.”  
  
“Great, great…” John forgot about his potential problems with Sherlock and let himself be guided through the halls of what looked like Downton Abbey for all he knew. He knew Sherlock was rich but he had no idea that he was this posh. It was like a level he only thought really existed in the movies.  
  
“Did you go to Harrow?”  
  
“No.” Sherlock laughed. “I had private tutors.”  
  
“Mmmhmm… that didn’t make you less posh.” John scoffed as they entered a room where Mycroft, Mrs Holmes, and who had to be Mr Holmes were.  
  
“You’re a bit late, aren’t you?” Mycroft looked at his watch. “Did you take the long way, Sherlock?”  
  
“No, we didn’t stop for a shag, the train was late. You know how public transportation is, you and father run it after all.”  
  
John was mortified, “Sherlock.”  
  
“It’s what he implied, he was the rude one first.”  
  
“He didn’t actually say it.”  
  
“But we didn’t so why does it matter?”  
  
“Still impolite… Ah, hi Mrs Holmes, Mycroft… It’s nice to meet you Mr Holmes.”  
  
“Trying to keep Sherlock in line, I like him already.” Mr Holmes stood up from the sitting chair, “It’s a pleasure, John, you can call me Siger.”  
  
John relaxed a bit because Siger was much less intimidating than Mrs Holmes and Mycroft. He was some international spy but he was far less scary than he thought. He looked like a kind older gentleman, probably a good cover for him.  
  
John shook his hand, “I’ve heard so much about you.”  
  
“No you haven’t, you’re just being polite. I know Sherlock barely talks about us and when he does it’s probably bad.” Siger glanced at his son but it was with a fond smile.  
  
“Violet, I have no idea why you and Mycroft are so rude to John. It seems he has the best intentions. I hope you don’t mind the deduction, John.”  
  
“No, no, that’s fine. I’m used to it.” He pointed to Sherlock.  
  
“Siger, I was not rude -”  
  
“It’s ok, Violet, John’s here to give you and your son a second chance. Clearly he loves Sherlock.”  
  
“I… ah… um…”  
  
“Oh, sorry.” Siger made the same face Sherlock did when he made a mistake. “I guess I read you both wrong…”  
  
“Father, can you please talk to John about football or cricket, he likes those sorts of things.” Sherlock looked bored. “Small talk, you’re all so very good at it.”  
  
Siger patted John’s shoulder, “I guess we’ll do as he says. So John, where are you from?”

 

***

After dinner, a delightful one at that where it seemed Violet and Mycroft were starting to warm to the idea of John Watson dating the youngest Holmes, Sherlock gave John a tour of the estate.  
  
In what John termed ‘the ball room’ because he had no clue what else such a grandroom would be called, Sherlock decided he needed to teach John how to Waltz.  
  
“You are rather a quick study. We should compete in ballroom competitions.”  
  
John laughed, “I like doing it with you, no competition. We can do things like this for fun.”  
  
“You’re so boring.”  
  
“I’m not. I have a hobby now.”  
  
“Ah, yes, your brutish sport.”  
  
“You’ll come see me play once, right? You said something about shorts and aggression in Paris?”  
  
“Oh yes, turn ons.”  
  
“I’m glad I can meet those little kinks you have.”  
  
“How did you know I don’t have more?”  
  
“I don’t but who knows.”  
  
“So, now you have two things you’re trying to keep off of your mind.”  
  
John tightened his grip on Sherlock’s waist, “Good job at ruining the mood, we were having a nice moment.”  
  
“You want to talk about it, I thought we should do that before having sex.”  
  
“Maybe we should talk about it after Sunday?” John reminded him.  
  
“It’s very unlike you to avoid conversation.”  
  
“I just want to be with you, happily, right now. I don’t want fights.”  
  
“So these things will cause a fight?”  
  
“They could.”  
  
“Right, it’s better if we don’t talk about it now then because I really want to have sex with you.”  
  
John laughed and kissed Sherlock’s cheek. “Where’s your room?”  
  
“Rooms.”  
  
“Rooms?”  
  
“Yes, I have my bedroom, bathroom, and library. I also consider the studio mine as well, I can show you that on the way to my wing.”  
  
“All right, sounds good.” John grinned and stopped dancing. “Show me the way.”


	12. Degagé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Degagé means to disengage. In between a tendu and a grande battement, the foot slightly leaves the floor.

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling. John was going to be leaving soon and they were going to have to talk about things. They had a very enjoyable weekend, he didn’t even have any problems with his family and did rather well with eating. His family seemed to like John quite a bit after finally getting know know him, instead of just making snap judgements.  
  
It was going to be terrible to see John leave, then to have an argument later would make everything worse but he felt like they needed to talk about those two things John was upset about.  
  
For one, he needed to talk about John not being happy with him after what Jim said about him possibly sleeping with another person the night he overdosed. They hadn’t had penetrative sex since a few nights before that. Clearly John was thinking about the night somewhere in his head.  
  
Two, love. John looked afraid when his father deduced that John loved him. It was wrong apparently when he saw John’s reaction. During a session the other week he remembered Jim saying that John could never really love or care for Sherlock. He was most likely right. Abigail said that Jim was just trying to ruin his relationship with John. He wished he could believe her more than he believed Jim.  
  
“You’re up?” John yawned before throwing his leg over Sherlock’s. Sherlock decided he was going to miss cuddling with John the most, he’d never tell him that though.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Early, isn’t it? Especially for you, you’re always,” John yawned. “You’re always sleeping when you can.”  
  
“Mmm.” That wasn’t true. Sherlock spent most of his nights with out John around up, reading or composing or dancing or doing experiments. He only seemed to get a full night’s rest when the other man was in bed with him.  
  
“You all right? You’ve got your thinky look going.” He rested his head on Sherlock shoulder. “Too early for thinky.” John squinted at him.  
  
“Go back to sleep, John.” Sherlock rubbed John’s back in an attempt to sooth him back to sleep.  
  
“Are you ok, though?”  
  
“I’m fine, you don’t want to talk about these things right now. We’ll wait until you get home.”  
  
John yawned again and looked over Sherlock to the side table to check the time, “It’s four in the morning and I think maybe now would be a good time for the conversation. Don’t think I’ll be going back to sleep.”  
  
“I thought you didn’t want to do this now.”  
  
“Maybe face to face is the best.”  
  
Sherlock chewed on his lip, “I think we may need tea for this, don’t you?”  
  
“Yeah, sure.” John sat up. “I need my clothes first.”  
  
“Talking about feelings is already hard enough, there is no need to be more vulnerable.” Sherlock reached for his robe. “Bit more like battle armor than it is bottoms and shirts.”  
  
John pulled on his PJ bottoms, looking very stricken.  
  
They padded downstairs to the kitchen in silence, leaving Sherlock somewhat concerned about what was going to happen because the last time he had a fight in a relationship had lost a full day of his life.  
  
“So, ah, since you were the one up thinking this morning, you should go first.” John put the kettle on the hob.  
  
Sherlock scrubbed his fingers through his hair, “Why won’t you fuck me? I had some idea that you wouldn’t do so with my family in the same building but that didn’t matter because we did get off with each other.”  
  
John leaned back against the counter, “What are you talking about, we shagged -”  
  
“You gave me a hand job, I gave you a blow job, I fingered you, and you -”  
  
“Ok, so, you should have just asked me, I would have.” John looked as if he was blushing.  
  
“You haven’t shagged me in over a month. I shouldn’t have to ask, I thought you would just do it. Are you not interested in me like that? Is it because Jim may have had sex with me?”  
  
John shook his head, “I didn’t even realize it.”  
  
“So this was a subconscious thing. You told me not to let him into my head and I believe that he may have got into yours as well.” Sherlock pressed his fingers to his lips. “Honestly John, do you believe that I slept with more than Jim that night?”  
  
“Jim… he raped you.” John crossed his arms.  
  
Sherlock was almost shocked by the words because it didn’t feel like that to him. Then again he didn’t remember, “If he did -”  
  
“He did.”  
  
“Even if he did, what if I slept with someone else? We’ll never know unless someone comes and tells me this is true. You obviously don’t like the idea of it, no matter how much you say you don’t care.”  
  
“Of course I don’t like the idea of someone else with you.” John snapped but then appeared to regret it. “It’s irrational no matter what actually happened that night because we never established we were exclusive.”  
  
“We both assumed it. Even still, you’re allowed to be angry with me because we never talked about it.”  
  
“But you were drunk and high and he screwed with your head like he did before. Whatever you did only happened because of Jim. You wouldn’t have done it if you were just your normal self.” John jumped when the kettle began to whistle.  
  
“You can be angry. I’m not going to be hate you if you are.” Sherlock nodded. He was surprised John wasn’t more angry when it happened. “If you don’t want to be angry just reminded yourself what you said, we weren’t exclusive at the time.”  
  
John turned his attention to the tea, obviously thinking about how to word whatever it was he was thinking of.  
  
Sherlock stood straight in the middle of the kitchen. He didn’t like not know what was going to come out of John’s mouth. He wanted to be able to read his mind like John said he did sometime.  
  
It wasn’t until John handed Sherlock the tea that he spoke again, “I hate myself for not being ok with you possibly sleeping someone else that night. I wish you were sober and not having a bad time of it so I could have been angry at you and be done with it. I’m just left to hate Jim more but it’s not helping. I didn’t realize I was avoiding you like that, I really am sorry.”  
  
“I apologize for that night.”  
  
“You’ve done that plenty of times, Sherlock, I’ll get over it eventually.”  
  
“Will you?” Sherlock set his tea on the counter.  
  
“I just need time and I need to see I can trust you.”  
  
“How do I prove it to you?”  
  
“You just… you do the right thing when you come back to London and it will be fine.”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“Was there something else you wanted to talk about? You said there were two things before?”  
  
“Do you love me?”  
  
John scratched his head, “Is this because of what your dad said when I first got here Friday?”  
  
Sherlock shrugged, “As well as my own thinking. I told you that I was worried before I left the city and now I want to know.”  
  
“Have you figured it out?”  
  
“I’m fairly certain I do but I don’t think I can.”  
  
John frowned, “Why?”  
  
“I’m not sure if you can love me.”  
  
He snickered, “Why?”  
  
“Because of what happened.” Sherlock yelled at John, surprising himself. “Because I’m going to be struggling with the the rest of myself. Jim said -”  
  
“Jim said? Why is the bastard so attached to our relationship?”  
  
John knew the answer to that question so Sherlock ignored it and took a sip of his tea.  
  
“Jim said that I’m too much. Maybe I’m too much for you or maybe I’ve missed something with you. Maybe you don’t feel like I thought you felt. Maybe you’re just with me for certain reasons.”  
  
John took a deep breath, “Missed something?”  
  
“When my father said he deduced you loving me wrong -”  
  
“He was being nice because he probably realized we haven’t admitted it to each other.”  
  
“So, do you love me?” Sherlock figured to redirect the conversation.  
  
“I want to.”  
  
“Why do you stop yourself?”  
  
“Because you stop yourself from loving me and because my therapist said that I shouldn’t be relying on you.”  
  
“How do you possibly rely on me? If anything I rely on you.”  
  
“My PTSD symptoms nearly disappeared when I was around you and now that I haven’t seen you for over a month and everything but my limping and tremor came back. Ella said that I was too dependent on you.”  
  
“Your therapist is an idiot.” Sherlock slammed his mug back on to the counter, sloshing tea over the rim. “If I help you with it, I don’t see why that matters.”  
  
“I need to be able to live with out you because there’s no guarantee that we’ll last. We can’t be co-dependent.”  
  
Sherlock ran his hands over his face, “That’s not good?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Do I overwhelm you?” Sherlock remembered the conversations for Abigail about feeling overwhelmed by Jim.  
  
“Not in a bad way.” John shrugged. “I get overwhelmed with the fact that you want to be with me sometimes.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“You’re one of the best dancers in the world and have you looked in a mirror recently and you're just so perfect in every way that matter?”  
  
“Not because you love me?”  
  
“All consuming, overwhelming love never sounded healthy to me. I mean, I, if I would let myself, I would love you totally and completely but I would be able to live my life without having to be by your side every second. I’d be able to do my own thing but know when I go home you’d be there.”  
  
Sherlock gnawed on his lip again. He still wasn’t sure what love should feel like. He still wasn’t sure if the consuming was good or bad. He had no idea if any part of what he had with Jim was a good thing. Was what he had with John good at all? This was all too complicated. “Would it be easier to love each other without your PTSD and my eating disorder, John?”  
  
“Probably but could we love each other? Do you even love me?”  
  
“You sound like your therapist and I haven’t even met her. Idiot.” He mumbled, annoyed with the woman.  
  
“But could we?”  
  
“I think we could.”  
  
“Do you love me?” John held on tight to his mug, leaving Sherlock to wonder how much force it would take to break it.  
  
“I’m still worried about it.”  
  
After a few moments of heavy silences John finally spoke, “Maybe we should spend our time apart… apart.” John cleared his throat. “I think we need to work on ourselves. Neither of us can move on to the next step in the relationship right now.”  
  
Sherlock felt his mouth twitch but he tried his best to look unaffected. He wanted to avoid a repeat of his explosive break up with Jim. “We can’t work on ourselves if we stay together?”  
  
“I think my therapist might be right about me needing some time to myself.”  
  
“You’re unsure of your choice. It’s clearly wrong.” Sherlock swallowed the lump in his throat. This wasn’t supposed to be how this weekend ended. He did expect to be sad over John leaving but he didn’t think it was going to be permanent.  
  
“I’m unsure of this too so is this right?” John gestured between them. “It’s not right to string you along if I’m not sure and the same goes for you too. Let’s just take some time and see what happens.”  
  
“You’re probably right.” Sherlock felt like he couldn’t hear himself.  
  
“I’ll, um, I’ll leave on the first train.”  
  
“Probably for the best.” Sherlock abandoned his tea. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore because John was not going to change his mind, it was obvious. Sherlock knew when to give up a fight.  
  
“Where are you going?” John looked as if he was about to start to cry. Sherlock didn’t think that he any right to start doing that. This was his own fault.  
  
“We’re done. We’re done here, aren’t we?” Sherlock turned his back on John and left the room.  
  
He went to hide away in the library to try to find something to keep his mind off the situation. Obviously that didn’t work.  
  
Sherlock sat there and tried to think of a way to save his relationship until six-thirty when John asked Sherlock to drive him to the station to go back to London.

“I don’t want to leave this on a bad note, Sherlock. I want to know you’re ok with this.”  
  
“I hate to sound like a bad movie, John, but the only way I’ll be ok is if you’re with me at the moment. There’s no possible way for me to be ok with this right now.”  
  
“Just… just focus on yourself getting better. Please, you have the promise to fulfill to me about getting to see you preform.”  
  
“I’d rather you not see me, ever again.”  
  
“Don’t be like this, Sherlock. I didn’t say it was never going to work. I just think that taking a break is a good idea.”  
  
“If you don’t want me now, why will you want me, in say, three months?” He pulled in front of the station.  
  
“Because it might be better then.”  
  
“Or it might be worse.”  
  
“You’re afraid we won’t love each other anymore.” John twisted his hands in his lap.  
  
Sherlock shrugged, “I don’t care. I thought we didn’t love each other as it was anyway, John.”  
  
“You’re lying.” John touched Sherlock’s arm but he flinched away.  
  
He was, he was terrified too. John was so good to him and for him, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever find someone like him again.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“You’re going to miss your train if you don’t get out of the car.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Sherlock.”  
  
“I’d appreciate it, if you left now.”  
  
“Don’t…” John sighed and just shook his head. “Just try to stay healthy, you’re looking really well.”  
  
Sherlock drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to remember that he had more control over his life than just what he ate.  
  
“I’ll… bye.”  
  
He made it half way home before he had to pull over to cry because his eyes were too watery to see the road.

***

Following lunch Sherlock took to the studio in order to make himself feel better about John’s choice for their relationship.  
  
Sherlock stood in front of the mirror and frowned at himself. He shouldn’t have had the side of bread with his salad. That was a mistake.  
  
“There you are, darling.” Mummy came into the room beaming. “Did John have a nice time? It’s such a shame he had to leave so early this morning, I hope everything is ok. Your father thinks he’s the best possible thing on the face of the planet for you. I’m so sorry that I doubted you making a good choice before.”  
  
“We broke up.”  
  
His mother’s smile fell, “Why on earth would you do that? You both seemed to be having a fantastic weekend.”  
  
“As John said, we both have to work on ourselves.”  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
He nodded, “I’ll be better when you leave me alone and stop pestering me with questions.”  
  
“Fine. Just one more thing, do you need me to call Abigail to see if she can drop by today?”  
  
“She’s coming tomorrow, I’m not going to kill myself over this tonight. I’ve never been suicidal, Mummy.”  
  
“I’m so sorry. I should have been happy that you had found someone -”  
  
“I don’t have him anymore, if you’d let me dance that would be wonderful.”  
  
“Right, I’ll be in my office if you need me.”  
  
“I won’t.” Sherlock muttered as she finally left.  
  
He waited seven minutes before going to the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was editing this while waiting for Sherlock on come online/avoiding tumblr for spoilers and I realized that this is probably adding to your heart break. Sorry, y'all. It will get better, I promise! Well I can't promise that about the show but I can about this fic : )


	13. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude means a period of time between events.

Another morning and John was alone in bed, hoping the day would bring a change. Hoping that he would feel better and not limp into work. That came back a week after breaking up with Sherlock. Hoping that he would finally see that he can fix himself because no matter what he did (therapy, medicine, trying to find a hobby, nights out with Greg and old friends), nothing made him feel like he wasn’t alone and that he would be ok eventually. Hoping that he could get through the day without anxiety or depression. Hoping that he wouldn’t think of Sherlock.  
  
He had broke up with Sherlock because he thought his therapist was right about him leaning too much on the other man for his own recovery but it was now mid-December, over a month after John asked for a break, and he wanted to go crawl back to Sherlock on his knees. Leaving him was probably the dumbest things he could have done. He needed him, he did love him, and he didn’t care what happened the night that he had overdosed anymore. But he highly doubted that Sherlock would have any interest in taking him back.  
  
Every time he thought of that night he cringed. John hated that they had an argument to begin with, it did need to happen but it did not need to end that way. But what was he supposed to do? Sherlock couldn’t love John for his own reasons and John couldn’t love Sherlock because he didn’t want to be in a one-sided relationship. He also thought it could help him work on his own mental health but he had just done the opposite.  
  
John’s mind jumped to Sherlock’s own mental health and prayed that he was still doing well. Sherlock’s health was fragile but he thrived when he had been on his own before. Maybe he was doing much better, better than he was with John. He convinced himself that he was putting on weight and being healthy. He wanted to see Sherlock dance no matter if the dancer said he never wanted to see him again.  
  
Every work day for the past month had been the same. John woke up, he showered, got ready, and ate his breakfast before taking the Tube to work. At work he would keep to his self and hope that he didn’t have to look at Jim’s face. When he did have to look at Jim’s face it was from the other side of the room because Greg decided it was best for John to keep his distance from Jim.  
  
The whole company knew that he was with Sherlock. No one seemed to look at him differently and Mrs Hudson even told him how happy she was for him and Sherlock. They didn’t know they broke up but John figured he’d get that out sometime later, before Sherlock came back, because he had no desire to see the smug look on Jim’s face for the time being.  
  
Following work most days he went home and watched telly until he made dinner. After he would sit in bed and read. He’d fall asleep and then wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night before restlessly sleeping until his alarm went off for him to work through another day.  
  
John went to therapy once a week. Ella would ask him about his progress and he would tell her that nothing was progressing because nothing was. She gave him tips and encouragement but there was nothing that stuck. She said he did the right thing by leaving Sherlock because it the relationship was going to be co-dependent. John had a strong feeling now that he shouldn’t have listened to her because he felt like he was never going to find anyone to be with again.  
  
One of the oddest things about his life now, John noticed, was that he was suddenly drinking less tea. Tea made him think of Sherlock. It shouldn’t have though because he was apart of his life way before Sherlock was. Tea was comforting and reminded him of the nice days he had when he was growing up. But now it just reminded him of Sherlock and helping him through a bad time or a nice quiet day in Sherlock’s flat.  
  
He attempted to find himself but the only self he knew outside of the army was as a student and he wasn’t about to return to Uni. He had no family and many of his old friends weren’t how he remembered them. Greg, Molly, and Dimmock was nice and all but how much time could you spend with your co-workers outside of work even if they were friends? He had no skills outside of shooting people and helping nurse people’s injuries. There was rugby but there wasn’t anything on with that until the spring.  
  
There was no way that he was that person who was incomplete with out a relationship, he hated those people. It seemed like he was though. His life with out Sherlock was lacking of color and brightness.

***

Sherlock flushed the toilet and sat back against the wall next to him. The shower was still running but he couldn’t manage to pick himself up off the floor to turn it off. He’d still needed to wet his hair to make it look as if he was actually showering once he worked up enough strength to move again. From past reference that could be anywhere from two minutes to five hours.  
  
He ate according to his meal plan to satisfy his family but always ended up in his bathroom on his knees with the shower or tap running every day once or twice… or three times. After weeks of purging he was starting to get a bit sick of it but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it because every time he did a jump or turn on a full stomach it felt like he had ingested a ton of bricks.  
  
Abigail and his nutritionist, Richard, tried to give him a “tool box to recovery” but it was just bullshit. Was there a point? It was not going to get John back and it was not going to make him a better dancer. He was a better dance just the way he was now.  
  
How he was reacting was idiotic because he knew that he was just trying to hold on to control of his weight because he had no control over what happened with John. It was like his entire relationship with Jim, he needed something to hold on to and his weight was it. It didn’t help that he had a terrible body image and Jim was giving him more than a small push before. He wondered how much more drugs would have played a role if his weight wasn’t an issue. But he would lose control then, wouldn’t he?  
  
Either way it didn’t matter because he was on the floor in the bathroom again, like he had been for more than a month now. His brain was being a bastard, just like John  
  
He hated John. Actually, he wanted to hate John but he just ended up missing him terribly  because John was nothing but good to him. John never did a thing wrong in their relationship, it was nearly perfect. He never got angry when Sherlock didn’t want to talk and never made snap judgements about his eating disorder.  
 

Sherlock scolded himself because he should have known better than to fall for someone, to open up, to trust anyone but himself. He had made the mistake before, of course John wasn’t any different. Why would anyone actually love him?


	14. Grand Pas d’action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grand Pas means literally, big or large step. A Grand pas is a suite of individual dances that serves as a showpiece for lead dancers, demi-soloists, and possibly the corps de ballet.
> 
> If the Grand pas does contribute to the ballet's story, then it is known as a Grand Pas d'action.

December 22nd, “Martha Hudson just called to chat.” Mummy said as she joined Sherlock in the sitting room where he was reading about apiculture. Bee-keeping was starting to look like a rather interesting hobby.  
  
“That’s nice.” He didn’t understand why that was any concern to him unless she was asking him to come back to dance because the whole production was a mess and no one could be Spartacus but him.  
  
“She says that John’s sad, wanted to know if you’re the reason for that.”  
  
“It’s his own fault.” Sherlock rolled his eyes but he felt his pulse tick up a bit.  
  
“What’s, who’s fault?” His father came in.  
  
“Where’s Mycroft for this fun family time?” Sherlock held the book closer to his face, hoping they would get the clue that he wanted to be left alone. “I can’t remember the last time we all sat together in one room.” Aside from when John came to visit but that was for company."  
  
“John’s not doing well, isn’t that important to you, darling?” His mother ignored Sherlock.  
  
“I’m still not sure what happened with you both. I worked out he broke up with you but there had to have been a reason because you had a genuine lovely weekend last month.” His father sat next to him. “You’re both unhappy, clearly.”  
  
“You haven’t seen him, how would you know about John? Can we honestly trust Mrs Hudson’s word? She did marry that drug dealer and had those years where she went off because she decided to dance burlesque.”  
  
“I saw him the other day when I was in London at the home office.”  
  
“Spying on him? Old habits really do die hard, don’t they, Father? I thought you retired from being out in the field.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow, still holding the book up.  
  
“I wasn’t spying. We happened to be in the same coffee shop at the same time. I don’t think he saw me -”  
  
“Because you were spying.” Sherlock accused his father. “Far too old for the field.”  
  
“He was depressed, rather obvious. He’s limping, that pesky PTSD seems to have worsened.” Again, Sherlock felt ignored by one of his parents. “You’re depressed as well, you’re not eating and what you do eat isn’t staying with you. You were rather determined before your break up to get better but now you’re stalled.”  
  
“I am not. I’m fine. I’m staying on my meal plan” Blatant lie but he was able to lie to his parents in the past.  
  
“Do you think we’re dumb, Sherlock? You’re mother is a mathematical genius and I’m -”  
  
“An international spy genius. Mycroft is a plain old genius with everything.” He glanced at both of his parents over his book. “You’re all geniuses, aren’t you? I’m just the dancer.”  
  
“A genius dancer.” His father said softly. “You miss him and he misses you, what is the problem?”  
  
Sherlock threw his book down on the table and stood up dramatically, “The problem is that neither of us know if we can properly love each other. Apparently he thinks we could be co-dependent. He’s probably right on with that.”  
  
“I don’t think either of you were being co-dependent. I thought he was handling your anorexia wonderfully. Better than any of us have.”  
  
Sherlock snorted at his mother as he stood against the doorframe.  
  
“You know, you can control this. This is in your favor.” His father grinned at him. “You can go get him back. That sounds rather romantic and unlike you but maybe you need a change.”  
  
“He’s the one who broke up with me. Why would I want to get him back?”  
  
“People make mistakes.” His mother encouraged him. “You want him back.”  
  
“You hated him before, what changed?”  
  
“I didn’t hate him, I just didn’t trust him or your judgement for that matter. I understood that I made a mistake after meeting him.”  
  
“You approve now, so it’s ok I’m with him? You’re making me choose him.” Sherlock looked at his nails.  
  
“I’m not making you choose him, you need him. You’re choosing him yourself, I just need to give you a push in the right direction because sometimes your blind to what you need for yourself.”  
  
“I don’t need anyone.”  
  
“William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you most certainly need your family and I’m positive you need John Watson.” Mummy picked up the book Sherlock was reading.  
  
“I think your mother is right.”  
  
“Of course you do, you always agree with what she says, heaven forbid you parent yourself.” Sherlock glared at his father.  
  
“That’s a terrible thing to say.” Mummy shook her head.  
  
“I’ve been told I’m a terrible person.”  
  
“We all know that is not true.” His father cleared his throat. “I’ve got something Mycroft sent over to look at. I’ll be in the office if you need me.”  
  
“Yes, dear.” Mummy smiled as he left. “I wish you wouldn’t treat him that way.”  
  
“Well, he wasn’t around my entire childhood and he has never attended a show. You were the one who brought me up with the help of Nanny and the tutors. He’s merely the man who happens to be my biological father and came home every so often to pretend to have a nice little family.”  
  
“He’s very upset you feel that way. He had a very important job and couldn’t just quit. He’s trying now.”  
  
“Is he though because I know he’s disappointed in the fact that I’m only a dancer?”  
  
“He’s not.”  
  
Sherlock pushed off the door frame, “I think I’m going to go compose.”  
  
“You should think about talking to John.”  
  
“No, I don’t think that I should.”  
  
“I’d ask you to talk to your father as well but that won’t get me anywhere, will it?”  
  
“You’d be correct.”  
  
“Maybe some day you will listen to me about that?”  
  
“I couldn’t guarantee it.” Sherlock turned to leave.  
  
“You’re not just a dancer, Sherlock.”  
  
He stopped, “Am I?”  
  
“You’re a fantastic one, to begin with. The best. You’re brilliant as well, you could have been anything from an engineer to an actor and we’re all so happy you choose something that completes you. I just wish it wasn’t such an effort to get you to the stage sometimes.”  
  
Sherlock gave a curt nod before making his way to the studio.

***

Later that day, Abigail came by for her last session before Christmas. Seeing her twice a week became far more of a chore than it had been before, not that it was a walk in the park previously.  
  
“Your mum tells me that John’s depressed and she tried to talk about him with you but you shut her out.”  
  
“That is what my father says and what Mrs Hudson says.” Sherlock sat up straight.  
  
“Do you know it’s ok to go back to him?”  
  
Sherlock laughed, “Why would I do that?”  
  
“You miss him, don’t you?”  
  
He shrugged.  
  
“It’s ok to miss him and love him too. He broke up with you because he wanted to work on himself, which is apparently not working, and because you weren’t sure about loving him.”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
“That’s what you told me.” She sighed, letting them sit in silence for awhile. “You shut everyone out, you’re very talented with that. I’ve experienced it first hand. You were letting me in for a while then you got hurt and your defenses went back up. You don’t like when your feelings are hurt.”  
  
“Does anyone?”  
  
“No but the way you deal with it may not be healthy. A lot of people do unhealthy things but you really shut it down, closes everyone else, and let it eat away at you.”  
  
Sherlock didn’t answer because she was right.  
  
“Was John good to you?”  
  
“Yes but he didn’t love me.”  
  
“But why didn’t he let himself love you.”  
  
“Why would anyone want to love me?”  
  
Abigail shook her head, “You need to work on some positive affirmations.”  
  
“Ridiculous.”  
  
“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t like that.” Abigail sighed. “I know there’s plenty you don’t like about yourself but you’re not a terrible, horrible person.”  
  
“Pity.”  
  
“You don’t fool everyone. You might be able to fool some of your fellow dancers, critics, and other people who don’t get to see you but you don’t fool the rest of us.” She jotted something down in her note pad then looked up at Sherlock with a wide smile, “When was the last time you felt the best about yourself? Be completely honest with me, I know when you’re trying to bullshit. In the last few years, when was the best moment you felt 100% about yourself?”  
  
Sherlock shifted in his seat and closed his eyes, “Dancing the tango with John on our first date.”  
  
“Why were happy?”  
  
He opened his eyes again, “Because I was dancing and I usually feel good when I’m dancing. I was also with someone who made me feel good.”  
  
“Why did he make you feel good?”  
  
“Because he was just nice to me, he didn’t jump to conclusions, and he was calming.”  
  
“Do you love him?”  
  
Sherlock swallowed before nodding.  
  
“You may have opened yourself up to him but you still put some barrier around your heart and you didn’t let him all the way in. He was willing to love you if you were willing to love him and let him in. Do you think that you were dependent on him or did he enhance your recovery?”  
  
“He enhanced it, I was able to get myself better before without him around.”  
  
“That’s good, isn’t it?”  
  
“I suppose so but it doesn’t change anything.”  
  
“You wouldn’t go after him?”  
  
“I told you, he doesn’t want to be with me.”  
  
“Of course he does, he told you that he did. He needed you to open up and I think that you’re able to if you just let yourself.”  
  
Just thinking about making himself vulnerable again made Sherlock’s stomach turn. “He can still turn me down, he’s working on his PTSD.”  
  
“Didn’t you say part of John’s problem was that he’s lonely? No matter what he does, it seems like he might need to depend on someone.”  
  
“He doesn’t want to, he told me that.”  
  
“He’s just a stubborn as you are, then? Made for each other, I’d say.”  
  
“You are outrageous sometimes.”  
  
“‘Least I’m better than John’s therapist.”  
  
Sherlock agreed, “She does sound dreadful.”  
  
Abigail smiled, “So, Sherlock, what are you going to do about John?”  
  
“I’ll call him.”  
  
“You won’t but this is a start.” She looked at her watch. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about today?”  
  
“No, I’ll be very happy to see you leave.”  
  
“I’m sure you mean that as ‘Happy Christmas’.”  
  
“It’s as close are you going to get with me.”  
  
“Well, Happy Christmas, Sherlock. I know it can be tough this time of year for you with eating. Just relax and do what you can, don’t worry about anyone else.”  
  
“I wasn’t planning on it.”  
  
“Good.” Abigail started to pack up her things. “Did you know it’s nice to tell people you love them during Christmas?”  
  
“Is it because this is the height of the season that people commit suicide?” As the words left Sherlock’s mouth he felt his heart sink. John had no family and few close friends so he was going to be alone during Christmas while struggling with depression. That was not good.

***

Sherlock sat on the floor of the bathroom following dinner and looked down at the tile, frowning. He didn’t have the energy to do it anymore.  
  
It being the constant purging and the avoiding his true feelings for John. It was getting exhausting and if he was going to return to London and the studios anytime soon he needed to get back together with John. Or at least talk to John because he needed to get in control of things. He also needed to make sure that John wasn’t going to kill himself.  
  
He took a deep breath before getting up to brush his teeth and get himself back together.  
  
When he was done in the bathroom he went to his room and sprawled out on his back with his phone.

> Hi, John. - SH


	15. Pas de deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pas de deux means "step of two". Pas de deux is a duet.

John took a long pull of his beer, trying to will himself through at least a few more hours of wakefulness before getting another restless nights sleep. Days were pretty shite lately but the nights were normally the worst. They seemed worse probably because he couldn’t even escape feeling like hell when he was sleeping.  
  
He sighed as his phone buzzed. It was probably just Harry drunk texting him.

> Hi, John - SH

Bloody hell, he was losing it, wasn’t he? John missed Sherlock so much he was imagining a text message from him. He had gone completely barmy, might as well keep going down that rabbit hole…

> Sherlock?
> 
> Yes, haven’t changed my number. - SH

Still an arsehole, even in his psychosis.

What if it was real? If he was texting Sherlock was most likely in trouble or something because he said he never wanted to see John again.

> What’s wrong?

There was a long time between text messages. Either he was coming out of his state or the real Sherlock was trying to figure out what to say.

> I think we may have made a mistake. - SH

John set his phone down and stood up. What was he supposed to do with that? This was definitely a hallucination because  Sherlock Holmes was too stubborn to ever contact him, even if he had thought that their break up was a mistake. They were almost two months into their break or breakup or whatever it was and he thought for sure that Sherlock was sitting at home being stoic about it. Sherlock probably had his life pieced back together.  
  
He was probably having a mental breakdown because hallucinations were a symptom of PTSD.  
  
John picked the phone up and typed an answer back as he paced his small living room. If it wasn’t a breakdown he wanted Sherlock back but he did not want to get his hopes up.

> This isn’t real, is it?  
>   
>  No, very real. - SH  
>   
>  Not sure that I believe it.  
>   
>  Are you having a mental breakdown? - SH  
>   
>  Possibly?  
>   
>  We are quite good at those. - SH  
>   
>  We are.  
>   
>  Me more so than you. I’m much more dramatic with mine. - SH

John laughed in disbelief and looked around his flat as if to ground himself in reality. He needed to have a lie down or something because he was losing it.

> Are you all right? I had a horrible thought that involved you and suicide - SH

He frowned because the thought had crossed his mind.

> I’m okay.  
>   
>  I’d like to talk. - SH
> 
> Yeah?  
>   
>  Would that be ok with you? - SH  
>   
>  As long as I’m not having a mental breakdown.  
>   
>  I’m not sure if you are but this isn’t a hallucination. - SH  
>   
>  See, that’s what a hallucination would say.  
>   
>  You’re not. I’ll come see you tomorrow. - SH  
>   
>  You will?  
>   
>  To show you I’m not a hallucination. Mummy says that I can leave if it’s to see you - SH  
>   
>  How can I be sure you’re real even when I see you?  
>   
>  I’m not too sure about that but I feel like seeing me in person would help. - SH

John nodded to himself but he was going to be freaked out if Sherlock was standing over his bed in the middle of the night or when he woke up in the morning. It was a possibility that the real Sherlock would do that too, not just a hallucination of Sherlock.

> You can’t just come into my flat.  
>   
>  I won’t. I’ll meet you somewhere in public so you know I'm real. - SH

Great, he was going to be talking to himself on the tube or the middle of the street or at work then be sent to some padded room and be locked away forever.

> Ok.  
>   
>  I’ll see you tomorrow then. - SH  
>   
>  If it’s really you.  
>   
>  It is. - SH  
>   
>  Better be.

John spent the rest of the night rereading the text messages, trying to decide if they were real or if he really did have some type of strange episode. He probably should have gone to the hospital or something but opted for a good night sleep. Or at least a nights sleep.

***

The next morning, John checked his phone again and saw the texts were still there and they all had said the same thing they did the night before. It reassured him that he wasn’t completely insane but it didn’t guarantee it. He wasn’t sure what it felt like to be in a psychotic state so he couldn’t rule it out.  
  
On his trip to work he kept an eye out for Sherlock, just in case he surprised him on his route but he didn’t see him anywhere. It gave him time to think a little more clearly because last night he couldn’t think straight. He had a lot he wanted to say to Sherlock, the first being that he was sorry and that he was an idiot for leaving him.  
  
The last month and a half of his life was harder than it should have been and it was his own fault. He wanted Sherlock back so much but he was so certain that Sherlock wanted him at all.  
  
John walked into the physiosuite to find Sherlock sitting on one of the tables in his usual class clothes, “Mind wrapping my knee?”  
  
“Sherlock…” John could feel a grin blossom on his face as he rushed over to him.  
  
“I’m glad to see you didn’t section yourself.” Sherlock let out a hoarse laugh.  
  
“Sherlock, you should be at home.” He frowned, seeing how unwell he looked. He was skinny, pale, and his lips were cracked like he was dehydrated.  
  
“I told you I was coming to talk.”  
  
“How’d you get here?”  
  
“I drove myself.”  
  
“You were all right to drive?” He asked softly.  
  
Sherlock huffed, “I’m here, that’s what matters.”  
  
“I’m not going to let you dance.” John put his hand on Sherlock’s knee just to feel that he was real.  
  
“That’s fine.” Sherlock put his hand on John’s.  
  
“Bloody freezing.” John sighed at his cold touch.  
  
“Are you going to point out all my physical symptoms or are we going to talk?” Sherlock squeezed his hand.  
  
“ I am so sorry, I… I thought you’d do better with out me.”  
  
Sherlock shrugged as Greg walked in, “Sherlock, didn’t know you’d be here.”  
  
“Oh, just came to retrieve John for Christmas.” He smiled widely.  
  
“Thought you broke up.” Greg put his lunch down on the counter.  
  
“Not any more.”  
  
“We haven’t talked about it.” John reminded him. Not like there was any question whether they would end up together after they talked or not. They just needed to put some things back out on the table.  
  
“We’ll be back together by six o’clock tonight.” Sherlock slowly got off the table. “I’ll be at my flat. There’s a few things that I want to pack before going back home tonight.” Sherlock kissed John on the cheek.  
  
“Right, I’ll be there after work.” He missed the comfort of Baker Street. It had felt like the right place for him to be every time that he was there.  
  
“You can leave when lunch comes around.” Greg said after Sherlock left.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“He looks like shite, you need to work that out now.” He had become close to Greg since Sherlock departed for his parent’s home and sort of confessed the whole situation to him one night.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Think of it as your Christmas gift.”  
  
“Thanks, mate.”

***

John felt like the few hours before noon dragged but eventually he was standing in Sherlock’s living room, watching the dancer stretch in the middle of the floor. “Hey.”  
  
“You’re early.” Sherlock jumped up then nearly fell back over.  
  
“Whoa!” John ran over to him, “How about you sit down and relax?”  
  
“I’m fine, John.” He pushed himself away but moved over to the couch. “They let you leave?”  
  
“Greg wanted me to make sure you’re all right.”  
  
“Greg?”  
  
“Lestrade.”  
  
“Oh, right.” Sherlock sat down. “I’m unsure of what to say now…”  
  
“There’s a lot but I’ll go.” John rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sorry.”  
  
“As am I.”  
  
“I missed you. Thinking that taking a break from you was the biggest mistake of my life.” John sat next to Sherlock. “I thought I was doing the right thing but it made everything worse… apparently for both of us.” He set his cane aside.  
  
“You haven’t been sleeping correctly, your limp is back as is the tremor in your hand, you’ve been struggling with anxiety and depression, and you’ve thought of suicide.” Sherlock rattled off. “You hate that you have to depend on me to feel better but your therapy hasn’t helped and your attempts at going out with your normal friends has failed to make you feel better.”  
  
John nodded, “Yeah, that’s about it.”  
  
“You don’t want to be lonely, John. If it weren’t me you’d find someone else.”  
  
“Don’t think I would.”  
  
“I’m saying that your brain is a bastard because you don’t want to depend on someone but you sort of have to.”  
  
John threw his head back and laughed, “God, that’s an understatement.”  
  
“As is mine. You’ve seen the state of me and I’m sure you’re mentally calculating how much weight I’ve lost.”  
  
“It’s not just the weight, Sherlock, you just don’t look healthy.” John reached out to run his fingers through Sherlock’s curls.  
  
“It’s not your fault, don’t think that. I can see it all over your face.”  
  
“I triggered it.” John suddenly felt sick. The thought that it was him that caused Sherlock to look so sick and hollowed out was the worst thing in the world to him at the moment. John never wanted to have something in common with Jim Moriarty in that respect.  
  
“Well, you can stop it.” Sherlock licked his lips.  
  
“Oh yeah?”  
  
“It’ll be rather simple.”  
  
“Will it? How so?” John smiled softly.  
  
“Yes because… I love you so you can get back together with me.”  
  
“I love you too, Sherlock and of course we’re going to get back together.” He let out a sigh of relief.  
  
“I made a mistake of not letting you in completely and I was practically forced into seeing that yesterday.”  
  
“You didn’t need to tell me if you weren’t ready.”  
  
“When would I ever be ready?” Sherlock cracked his knuckles. “Should we talk about you being uncomfortable about what Jim said to be part of the cause of the break up?”  
  
“I told you before, I’ll get over that with time and I am over it.”  
  
“Good, that’s excellent.” Sherlock pulled John in for a hug. “I’ve missed you more than I thought I could miss anything. It felt very stupid.”  
  
“Even more than you miss dance?”  
  
“Oh, well… I should said I miss you more than I thought I could miss anything outside of dance.”  
  
“That’s fine.” John rubbed Sherlock’s back, feeling the notches of his spine. “I missed you so much too, it hurt.”  
  
“This is getting far too cheesy for me.” Sherlock pulled away and John chuckled.  
  
“Ok, we’ll stop. Do you want some tea?”  
  
“Yes and then we should head to my family’s home. Mummy’s probably expecting us for dinner.”  
  
“Are you sure it’s all right that I come with you?”  
  
“Obviously, you’re not spending Christmas alone.”  
  
“Afraid I’m going to kill myself?”  
  
“Yes, and we should talk more about that.”  
  
“We’re going to be talking more about your eating habits so it’s only fair.” Mental problem for mental problem, John figured.  
  
“I think we should worry about that later because I’m very tired.”  
  
“Do you want to nap?”  
  
“No, I’ll sleep in the car.”  
  
“I can’t drive, you should nap here and I’ll run home to pack after I make you some tea.”  
  
“You always have such fantastic ideas.” Sherlock beamed at him.  
  
“Oh, I know.” He kissed Sherlock’s temple before getting up to make the tea. “So you’re parents don’t hate me?” He said loudly from the kitchen as he put the kettle on.  
  
“No, the opposite actually. They were urging me to come talk to you. They completely changed their mind on you after you visited.” Sherlock said then yawned.  
  
John was happy to know that the Holmes didn’t actually hate him because they had the potential to be one scary family. He didn’t want to be on the wrong side of a fight with a bunch of genius international spies.  
  
“Here, you go, love.” He walked out into the living room to find Sherlock was out cold on the couch, snoring.  
  
John chuckled and set the mug down before planting a kiss on Sherlock’s forehead.  
  
He decided to clean the flat until Sherlock woke up again because he really didn’t want to leave him.  
  
When Sherlock woke up he yelled at John about disturbing the dust accumulation because he was observing it apparently.  
  
They ended up in Sherlock’s bed with crackers and tea talking, “You don’t have to answer but is this the least you’ve weighed?”  
  
“No but this is pretty bad.” Sherlock held his mug with two hands. “I am disgusting.”  
  
John shook his head, “You aren’t, you're beautiful. Just a bit unhealthy at the moment.”  
  
“Not like this, I can barely keep my head up. How am I supposed to dance like this?”  
  
“Well, you’re not. You’re going to recuperate then you’ll get back out there… in there… whatever the term would be for getting on the dance floor.”  
  
Sherlock smiled, “I’m not sure how you thought leaving me would be a good idea.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Then you stayed away for a month and a half depressed.”  
  
“I could say the same to you.”  
  
“Yes but I didn’t think about killing myself. Don’t say that I may as well have been by not eating, you know why I have problems. I don’t want to kill myself.”  
  
John frowned and took a sip of his tea, “I didn’t do it.”  
  
“But it’s still not healthy, right?”  
  
“You’ve been spending far too much time in therapy.” He laughed and set his tea aside. “The last month and a half was rough, really bad. I didn’t think that it was going to be that hard leaving you but I guess that I need someone in my life.”  
  
“You hate it.”  
  
“Yeah because I always thought I was an independent sort of bloke.” John grabbed a cracker. “But I need to do what’s best for me. If you ever feel like you can’t be with me, don’t be afraid to leave, you can’t stay with it just to make me feel better.”  
  
“Remember when I said you were the most absurd man I’ve ever met?” Sherlock grinned.  
  
“You can’t tell me you’re never going to leave me. You’ve barely spent enough time with me to know me well enough.”  
  
“You forget who I am.” He sat up a bit straighter.  
  
“You still can’t guarantee that there will be a time that we won’t break up, for good.”  
  
“I know that but if it happens then it won’t be the end of the world. Maybe you’ll be better by the time we break up, you can work through your insecurities. Maybe by then I will too. But I highly doubt I’m ever going to leave you, I hope that doesn’t scare you. I know it doesn’t.” He sighed. “You have to promise me you’re not going to kill yourself now.”  
  
“I won’t.”  
  
“And you’ll change your therapist because she is horrible.”  
  
“Fine but I won’t go to yours. That’s weird.”  
  
“She’s not allowed to talk about our sessions to each other.”  
  
“No, I’ll find one myself. Plus, she’s stationed out in Cambridge, that’d be hard to get to sessions weekly.”  
  
“True.” Sherlock rubbed his hands on John’s thigh. “But you’re not going anywhere?”  
  
“Of course not, not with you around. I got too much going on with you. I need to see your performance and there’s Christmas dinner this weekend.”  
  
Sherlock moved so his head rested on John’s lap.  
  
“I’m so happy you texted me.”  
  
“Probably the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

***

John woke up on Christmas morning with Sherlock wrapped around him. The last two days had been nice and relaxing, the opposite of what he thought he was going to be feeling before Sherlock came to see him.  
  
“Happy Christmas.”  
  
“Mmm, you’re happy? I thought you’d hate the holiday with your family problems.”  
  
“Well, I’m with you so that’s nice.”  
  
Sherlock yawned and buried his face in John’s neck.  
  
“I’m so thirsty.”  
  
“You’re hungover, too much mulled wine for you last night.”  
  
“Hardly.” John chuckled. “I need water though.”  
  
“Fine, go have water and leave me here alone and cold.”  
  
“Do you want tea?”  
  
“Smoothie.”  
  
“You want me to make it for you?” John was surprised because Sherlock had never asked him to make anything but tea for him.  
  
“Please.”  
  
“Yeah, sure, love.” He grinned.  
  
When he was down in the kitchen waiting for the water to boil for his tea, after he made the smoothie, Sherlock’s mum came in.  
  
“Oh, good morning, John. He let you make him a smoothie?” She was just as surprised as he was.  
  
“I know, it’s surprising.”  
  
“It’s good. You’re so good to him and for him.”  
  
John smiled, “He’s good for me too.”  
  
“Don’t you ever leave him again, ok? You both were foolish.”  
  
“I know and I don’t plan on it.”  
  
“He was… I was afraid for him after you left. He thinks that I’m stupid or blind but I knew what he was doing to himself and it hurt knowing that I could do nothing for him.”  
  
“I’m sure you tried.”  
  
“I convinced him to go see you, didn’t I?” She said with a twinkle in her eye.  
  
“You did, thank you.”  
  
“It’s fine, we all make mistakes.” She patted his cheek. “Tell Sherlock to get out of bed soon, will you? I don’t want him locked away all day.”  
  
“I will do my best.” John reassured her.  
  
“I know you will.” She paused, “By the way, Merry Christmas.”  
  
“Merry Christmas to you too.”


	16. Avant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avant means "Forwards", to the front, as opposed to arrière. For example, a step traveling en avant moves forwards, towards the audience, e.g. sissonne en avant.

“You don’t have to come up to see me play tomorrow.” John said over video chat in March. John had a match on Saturday that he had invited Sherlock to and he jumped on the chance to be in London, as well as to see John.  
  
The last few months of their relationship had been wonderful, even better than before they had that break. It was probably because they were both getting better, healthier all around. John had lost his limp and tremor again, obviously because he was able to play rugby. Sherlock was gaining weight back and spent far less time on the floor in the bathroom or calculating his BMI and caloric intake. It did happen from time to time but it was less frequent.  
  
“You’ll be cold and bored.”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, “My father wants to come see you play.”  
  
“It’s not like we’re professionals, just some blokes messing around. I don’t know why he’d want to come. I know you’re coming for the shorts, mud, and aggression though.” John winked.  
  
“Mmm… My father feels the need to become involved in my life all of a sudden so that’s why he’s going to be there.” Sherlock snorted at the thought.  
  
“Well, either way I’ll be happy to see you. London misses you.”  
  
“I miss London. When I came in December I didn’t go anywhere but to my flat and to the studios.” He frowned. “It’s been been almost six months since I’ve been away from here for longer than twenty-four hours. I never spent this much time here, even as a child!”  
  
Sherlock couldn’t wait to move back to London so he could be with John. He planned on asking him to move to Baker Street as soon as he returned.  
  
“You’re looking really healthy so something is obviously working. You won’t be there for that much longer now. How are you feeling today?”  
  
“Bored.” He snapped in response. He was getting sick of being bored out of his mind, there was only so much he could do at the estate. His mother wouldn’t let him do experiments in the house either because of an incident with a fire once. He had miscalculated but the damages weren’t too bad. She was just overreacting.  
  
“That’s good.”  
  
“How is my boredom good?”  
  
“Means you’re getting better, I’d say. You’ve complained about being bored more in the last few weeks than you had the months before. You’re energy is back up.” At times he thought John was more excited that he was getting better than Sherlock was.  
  
“Maybe they’ll let me leave.”  
  
“Thought we all agreed that you’d stay until you were back to a healthy weight.”  
  
Sherlock groaned and threw himself back on to his bed. He would need at least a month or so more, probably more, before he could leave then.  
  
“Hey, duck, where’d you go? Stop being overdramatic.” John chuckled.  
  
Sherlock felt himself perk up at his pet name. It had come about after John had called him an odd duck, lovingly, one day. He rather liked it but never admitted it to John but John obviously realized it because he kept doing it.  
  
“I’m not being overdramatic.” Sherlock pushed himself back up to see the screen.  
  
“Nooooo, you’re never dramatic.”  
  
Sherlock flipped him the ‘v’.  
  
“Yep, no drama here.” John just grinned stupidly.  
  
“You’re so in love with me, it’s almost sickening when you look at me like that.” Sherlock said sarcastically.  
  
“Love? You saw love there? That was all annoyance.”  
  
“I’d be blind if I didn’t see love written all over your face.”  
  
“If you were blind I’d tell you constantly.”  
  
Sherlock pretended to gag but secretly he enjoyed it when John was a cheesy romantic with him.  
  
“You’re a bastard.”  
  
He smiled, “I know, you tell me that constantly.”  
  
“So, when are you coming tomorrow?”  
  
“I think we’ll just be at the pitch before you’re set to go.”  
  
“Ok, we can do lunch afterwards if you want.”  
  
“My father says he’s going to go home after we’re all done our bonding but I’m being allowed to stay in my own flat for the night with you.”  
  
“Oh, you’re parents are giving us permission to have sex.” John reached over for a glass of water on his night stand.  
  
“This is what my life has apparently come to, John. Be that as it is, be ready to shag me through the mattress tomorrow night.”  
  
“Demanding, you are.”  
  
“I’m a lot of things, aren’t I?”  
  
“Countless. Mostly good too. Well, I at least find them endearing, I don’t know about other people.”  
  
Sherlock couldn’t do anything to fight the lip-twitch that turned into a smile.  
  
“Look, you love me too.”  
  
“Oh please, I would never look so stupidly in love like you.”  
  
“Tell that to the puppy dog eyes you give me.”  
  
Sherlock scowled before changing the subject, “How’s the company? Who’s injured?”

***

“I’m so glad you’re letting me join you.” Sherlock’s father said when they were close to the park John was playing his match.  
  
“You forced your way into my day, didn’t you?” He leaned his head against the window.  
  
“You could have told me no. I told you I didn’t want to intrude.”  
  
“I just don’t understand why you’re trying to be a part of my life now. Is John the son you always wanted? Do you really hate ballet so much?”  
  
His father laughed, “What are you on about, Sherlock? I don’t hate ballet.”  
  
“Ah, then you don’t like me then.”  
  
“What? Sherlock, I love you, you’re my son.”  
  
Sherlock glared over at his father.  
  
“How long have you thought this?”  
  
“I don’t think, I know.”  
  
“You know? Sherlock, you are a special gift.”  
  
“You wanted me to be like you and Mycroft, I’m not stupid.”  
  
“You are far from stupid but I never wanted you to be like Mycroft and I. Especially not your brother, you have a beautiful heart and you’re artistic. I’d hate for you to be as cold and closed off as him or I.”  
  
Sherlock turned to look at his father in disbelief, “You’ve never once been to a show.”  
  
“I’ve seen every single one.”  
  
He furrowed his brow, “What are you talking about? Every single one?”  
  
“I’ve made sure I’ve had your shows recorded. I’ve watched them all when I had the chance. My job wouldn’t let me be there all the time and I never wanted to commit to going because I never wanted to let you down by saying I would be some place but not being able to get there.”  
  
Sherlock felt like he wasn’t comprehending this properly, “Every one?”  
  
“Yes, I’ve seen every single performance.”  
  
“That’s more than Mummy and Mycroft.”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
“Why have you never told me?”  
  
“I’ve told you how good you are.”  
  
“Which I always ignored because I assumed you’ve never watched me dance before.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Sherlock.”  
  
“Are you just saying this to try to be a good father?”  
  
“No, I’m trying to fix the damage I had done in the past. I’m serious about what I say when I’m talking about your performances and your dancing.”  
  
Sherlock had no idea what to reply, this was such a rare conversation to have with his father. His mother always tried to push talks about feelings with him but never his father.  
  
“Why now?”  
  
“I’ve realized that I made a mistake leaving you without a father as a child. I’d like to be involved in your life now that I’ve cut down at work. I want to get to know your boyfriend and attend your performances in person, I hope that’s all right.”  
  
“I just don’t understand.”  
  
“I was afraid that I was going to lose you, for good this time.”  
  
“What about the last time?”  
  
“I didn’t see you like you were before until after John left.”  
  
“Why didn’t you care when I was healthy?”  
  
“I didn’t think you needed me. I thought I had done enough, obviously I was wrong.”  
  
“Obviously.” Sherlock mumbled and sunk down in his seat while pulling out his cigarettes.  
  
“I wish you’d stop smoking.”  
  
“Maybe we should have discussed that when I was a teenager.” He lit the cigarette after cracking open the window.  
  
“I do apologize for not being there when you were growing up and I wish you’d let me in now.”  
  
“Have you been informed I let people into my life easily because if you have I want to know who it was from so I can set them straight?” Sherlock took a long drag.  
  
“I feel like you are how you are because of me.”  
  
“Abigail did say that could be a problem but I’m doing much better, let’s not talk about it.”  
  
“Sherlock -”  
  
“I appreciate you having an interest in my dancing but I don’t need you telling me what is good and bad for me, I have enough people for that. You can attempt to be involved in my life but I don’t see myself making any effort.”  
  
“Right.” His father parked the car down the street from where they were meeting John. “Ok, do you want me to leave? I’ll drop your bag at Baker Street and drive back home.”  
  
“No, just come along. John will be upset with me if I made you leave before we got lunch.” Sherlock got out of the car and headed towards the field after grabbing the orange wedges from the back in a cooler. He read somewhere that oranges were good for athletes to have and he figured he should bring something for John. You don’t normally get roses for rugby matches, right?  
  
When they got to the pitch John was standing near the stands in his kit chatting with some of his teammates. He looked very good in the shorts like Sherlock figured. As soon as he saw Sherlock he lit up and jogged over to meet him and his father.  
  
“Siger, nice to see you!” John shook his father’s hand.  
  
“John, how are you?”  
  
“Great! I’m so happy you’re both here.” John turned his attention to Sherlock, “Hi, duck.” He kissed his cheek.  
  
“Here, I bought these for your team.” Sherlock handed the container to John.  
  
“Thank you, it will be like when I was a kid.” John chuckled as he took the container.  
  
Sherlock frowned, “Did I do something wrong?”  
  
“No, no, this is nice, thank you for thinking of me. But you can hold on to them for now, don’t really have anywhere to put them.” He rubbed Sherlock’s arm. “You’re smoking still, by the way?”  
  
“Hush.” Sherlock said as Lestrade came over.  
  
“Hey, Sherlock Holmes, never thought I’d see the day you’d be at a rugby match.” Lestrade smiled. “You’re looking good, coming back soon?”  
  
“Soon as they let me leave.”  
  
“Good, it’s really quiet with out you and I think some of the dancers could use someone to keep them in check. Bloody Jim’s got an ego the bigger than yours.”  
  
Sherlock skipped over any conversation about Jim, “This is my father, by the way, Lestrade.”  
  
“Oh, nice to meet you Mr Holmes.” He said politely. “It’s go time, John.”  
  
“Right, you guys enjoy. If you get bored, feel free to leave.”  
  
“No, I’ve studied up on the game, I actually find it interesting.” Sherlock assured John.  
  
“Good.”  
  
The game went by quickly and John’s team won. John seemed to be very good at the sport, Sherlock’s father even pointed it out.

***

Lunch wasn’t too terrible and afterwards Sherlock and John went to Baker Street, leaving his father to head home.  
  
“I need to stay healthy and in shape.” Sherlock declared after they both woke up from a nap.  
  
“Oh yeah?”  
  
“You really like a nice arse.”  
  
John blushed, “I do, who doesn’t? Yours is rather nice.” He copped a feel.  
  
“Thank you.” Sherlock rolled on to his stomach and John on to his side.  
  
After a long silence, “So your dad -”  
  
“Must we go there when we’re in bed?”  
  
“Well I want to talk about it, do you want to get out of bed for it?”  
  
Sherlock huffed and shook his head, “Go on.”  
  
“Your dad’s seen all your performances?”  
  
“Apparently.”  
  
“You thought he didn’t like what you did, seems the opposite.”  
  
“Yes and he’s trying to push his way into my life now. He feels bad for not being around when I was a child.”  
  
“Mmmhmm.”  
  
“What?” He raised an eyebrow at John.  
  
“Nothing, if my father was putting effort in like yours in I’d let him in a little.” John nestled his fingers into Sherlock’s curls.  
  
“After all your father put you through?”  
  
“It’s family. It’s not as if he hurt any of you physically or emotionally abused you, he just worked too much. My dad was a lot worse.”  
  
“True but I still don’t feel comfortable with it.”  
  
“Ok, but maybe you could just let him in slowly, at your own pace. It could be good for you.”  
  
“You may have a point.” Sherlock sighed. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to let his father become more involved.  
  
“I know I do.”  
  
“Enough about my father. I think we can retire that conversation for now.” He moved closer to John, throwing a leg over his hip. “I’ve missed being with you like this. This is the first time we had a really good shag since before I had overdosed.”  
  
“It was bloody good, wasn’t it?”  
  
“I’d say so and I think we should be repeating it as often as possible.”  
  
“It’s good for our health.” John smiled. "Sex releases those happy hormones."  
  
“Glad you agree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very happy this is almost done because I'm running out of ballet terms that vaguely relate to each chapter haha.


	17. Allegro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allegro means brisk, lively. A term applied to all bright, fast, or brisk movements. All steps of elevation in ballet fall under the term 'allegro' such as sautes, soubresauts, changement, echappe, assmeble, jete, assemble, sissone, entrechat, and so on.

John had come down to Cambridge to celebrate his birthday Friday morning. Sherlock got tickets to a concert and they were going to go to a nice dinner then spend the night in a hotel because Sherlock said that it was romantic.  
  
“35, you’re getting old.” Sherlock commented.  
  
“You’ll be this old one day.”  
  
“And you’ll be even older.” Sherlock reminded him as the got closer to the estate. “You’ll be 44.”  
  
“Bloody hell, I feel ancient with you sometimes.”  
  
“Sorry, this is probably a terrible conversation for your birthday weekend.”  
  
“It’s ok, it’s true.”  
  
“You’re very sexy for an ancient man. Plus nine years isn’t too many years.” He parked the car and his phone rang.  
  
“If you say.” John unbuckled his seatbelt as Sherlock answered hi phone.  
  
“Hello… oh hello Mrs Hudson… Yes, fine… It’s John’s birthday… Really…” Sherlock got out of the car, leaving John there. He wasn’t sure if it was a good conversation or not because his tone didn’t give it away at all.  
  
John decided to go inside to say hello to the Holmes, the reason he made Sherlock come back to the house before going to the hotel. They had a bit of a row over it because Sherlock wanted nothing to do with going back and seeing them, he apparently wanted to have John as many different ways as possible over the weekend. But John didn’t think it was polite for him to be in the area with out saying hello and convinced Sherlock into doing lunch.  
  
He found Violet and Siger in the sitting room chatting, “Oh, John, happy birthday!”  
  
“Thank you.” John smiled before giving Violet a kiss on the cheek. “How are you both?”  
  
“Wonderful, Sherlock’s getting very edgy about leaving here so we’re happy to have you take him out for the night.”  
  
“Where is our son?” Violet asked, looking behind John as if she just noticed him missing.  
  
“On the phone with Mrs Hudson. He walked off, I can’t tell if he’s angry or not.” John laughed.  
  
“I’m hoping it’s good, I think it’s time he heads back to London. His weight is back to normal and he seems to be doing well generally.”  
  
“It’s June, I’m surprised he hasn’t just left without telling us and showed up at the studios asking me to stretch him one morning.”  
  
“NIJINSKY!” Sherlock came rushing in to the room, waving his arms around and jumping.  
  
“What that?”  
  
“It’s a ballet! A brilliant ballet! It’s choreographed by John Neumeier about the greatest male ballet dancer - greatest dancer - in history, Vaslav Nijinsky. It revolves around his last performance and his descent into insanity. I saw it done in Berlin. We need to go back to London today, right now!”  
  
“Ok, what about it? Are you going to dance in it?” John questioned.  
  
“Neumeier is in London for the weekend. Mrs Hudson says that he wants to meet the dancers in her company. He’s very particular about who plays Nijinsky because he only wants the best for the part. He was very specific in asking for me.”  
  
“That’s fantastic!” Violet clapped.

“Sherlock, that would be wonderful.”  
  
“So, we’re going to London now?” John groaned at the thought of driving again.  
  
“Oh, your birthday! We can do something there… I apologize John but this is very important.”  
  
“It’s not the celebrating, it’s the having to drive back there again when I just got out of the car.” John explained to Sherlock.  
  
“Right, ok, sorry. Would you want to stay here then I’ll come back after -”  
  
“No, it’s fine, I’ll come back to London with you. Who knows how long you’ll be in the city? Plus it’d be ridiculous for you to do all of that driving.”  
  
“It’s settled then, let me grab some things and then we’ll leave.” Sherlock left, practically skipping his way out of the room.  
  
“I haven’t seen him in such a good mood since, well, since he was a child.” Violet let out a sigh of relief. “I need to look into the ballet, I’ve never seen it. I remember him talking about it before.”  
  
“He’s excited about it, must be good.”  
  
“Hopefully Jim isn’t in the running as well.” Siger had a sour look o his face. He wondered if Siger and Mycroft ever talked about having Moriarty killed, it wouldn’t have surprised John at all.

***

Sherlock explained the ballet to John on the way to London and apparently it was thought of as the most physically and technically difficult for any dancer. The choreographer only chose the best dancers because they needed a force on stage. The guy also wanted someone strong so they could handle the work load.  
  
The whole storyline sounded like it would be right up Sherlock’s alley. Nijinsky was mentally tormented but a master in his craft. It made John somewhat uncomfortable that Sherlock seemed excited that Nijinsky’s mother starved herself to death but he figured it was something that he could connect with. Nijinsky himself suffered from various mental problems, spending 30 years of his life and and out of mental hospitals. But on top of all of that he was considered the best dancer of the 20th century because he was brilliant technically and a power house on the stage.  
  
Honestly, the role sounded perfect for Sherlock.  
  
“I’ll go to the physiosuite so I can use the computer while you’re doing… whatever. It’s my day off but I don’t think Greg will mind me around. Is this an audition? You haven’t said.” John said as they walked into the studios.  
  
“Technically the auditions aren’t going to be until the beginning of September but he hasn't chose where to bring the ballet yet. Mrs Hudson is courting him with her best dancers.”  
  
“Oh, wow, I’m so happy for you.” John kissed his cheek. “Come find me whenever you’re ready.”  
  
“Are you sure you don’t hate me because I ruined our plans for your birthday?” Sherlock asked, holding on to John’s hand.  
  
“No, don’t worry about that, go dance well.”  He squeezed his hand before Sherlock grinned and took off towards the dressing rooms.  
  
John went up to the physiosuite where Greg was working on Irene’s leg. She’d been having problems with her hip lately.  
  
“John! I thought you were off all day to see Sherlock for your birthday.” Greg looked at him funny.  
  
Before he could answer Irene said, “No! Did Mrs Hudson call him to come in for Neumeier?”  
  
He smiled and nodded, “I got there then had to turn around before I even getting to have lunch with his parents.”  
  
“That’s good if he asked for Sherlock even though he hasn’t danced all year. How’s he doing?”  
  
“He’s really good, probably coming back soon.”  
  
“Excellent, I can’t wait to see him. Has he been dancing?”  
  
“Oh yeah, that’s basically all he does at home from what I hear.” John sat on the table by Irene and Greg.  
  
“He’d be great as Nijinsky, he’s so much more powerful than Jim when he’s in the right frame of mind.” Irene sighed as she sat up. “Christ, I miss dancing with him. I don’t trust Jim at all.”  
  
“No one does.” Greg snickered.  
  
“He’s a bastard.” Irene pulled on her sweatshirt. “I have to be going gentlemen, have a good day. Make sure Sherlock treats you right for your birthday, John.” She winked and John felt himself blush.  
  
“Ah, yeah.”  
  
Irene gave them a wave before taking off.  
  
“The company is excited Sherlock is back, the great git, and they bloody hated him before but they have to deal with Jim now. Sherlock’s a walk in the park.”  
  
John was glad to know that Sherlock was liked amongst the other dancers even if they thought he was a cocky know it all at times. Clearly anyone was better than Jim Moriarty. In John’s mind he was the devil incarnate.  
  
About an hour later John was on the computer in the office, “Get your finest suit! We are going to L’Autre Pied.” Sherlock spun the desk chair around.  
  
“I take it, it went well.”  
  
“Perfect, I danced better than I have ever before.”  
  
“Did you see Jim?”  
  
“No, he’s sick!” He laughed and pulled John up. “Let’s go.”  
  
“L’Autre Pied is expensive.”  
  
“Who cares, let’s go and eat and and drink then we can go dancing. Unless you found something that’s going on in the city you’d like to do.”  
  
“You’re in such an excellent mood.” John shook his head in disbelief.  
  
“Is that a bad thing?”  
  
“No, it’s great.” He followed Sherlock out of the room. “Do you think he’s going to come here? Do the ballet with us?”  
  
“With us.” Sherlock teased him.  
  
“Yes, Mrs Hudson says that we are a part of this company, a very important one.”  
  
“I suppose. But yes I think he’s going to bring it here.” Sherlock said as they went down the stairs.  
  
“That’s so good and Jim didn’t get to dance for it.”  
  
“He’ll be able to audition for it if it comes to that but I already made a good impression him.”  
  
“Nice positive attitude.” John said.  
  
“You’re not mocking me.”  
  
“Of course I’m not, I like it.”  
  
“Jim loathed it when I was happy and positive.”  
  
“He’s a shitty person, of course he loathed it.”

***

After they finished dinner, “Another bottle of wine?” Sherlock rested his head on his hand.  
  
John chuckled, “We’ve had two… think that’s enough.”  
  
Sherlock gave a deep belly laugh, “We’re celebrating tonight, who cares?”  
  
“I want us to go dancing, let’s not get completely wasted just yet.” John rubbed his stomach. The dinner he had was the best one he had ever ate in his life.  
  
Not to mention the company he was in was lighting up the room. Sherlock had been doing really well and truthfully John was nervous about him entering the studio for the first time but he seemed to have been worried about nothing.  
  
“What type of dancing?”  
  
“Not sure, what do you think?”  
  
“Let’s go to a club.” Sherlock said after handing his credit card to the waiter.  
  
“As in loud and crowded with techno music?”  
  
“We’d have to go change, obviously, can’t go like this.”  
  
“I don’t know…”  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” He frowned. “It’s your birthday, I shouldn’t be deciding for you.”  
  
“It’s fine.”  
  
“What do you want to do?”  
  
“Do you like jazz?”  
  
“We haven’t danced to that before, how exciting.” Sherlock’s eyes seemed to brighten even more. “You know of a jazz bar?”  
  
“Yes, you don’t know everything about me, Sherlock Holmes.” John pulled out his phone, just to make sure that the place he was thinking of was still open. It had been years since he’d been there.  
  
“I know a fair amount about you but you do still manage to surprise me.”  
  
“That’s a good relationship then.” John was excited to see it was still open.  
  
“Do I surprise you?”  
  
“Every bloody day.”  
  
“Good.” Sherlock’s grin reminded him of a cat. “Let’s go.”  
  
They made out in the back of the cab like their first date all the way to the jazz bar and if it weren’t for all the wine John would have been somewhat embarrassed.  
  
At the bar they danced for hours and drank the best champagne because Sherlock declared that John needed to be lavished with the best. By the time they left they were both stumbling and slurring out of the bar but John had never been happier in his entire life.  
  
They decided to walk back to Baker Street because it wasn’t too far away and there were no cabs to be found.  
  
“You’re such a brilliant dancer.” John hiccuped.  
  
“I know. I have got an international reputation. Do you have an international reputation?”  
  
“Cocky git, they don’t call me Three Continents Watson for nothing.” He looked up at the dancer with a smirk.  
  
“They, what, who calls you what?”  
  
“Army buddies.”  
  
“Ah, you slag!” Sherlock was wide eyed as if he was in complete shock.  
  
John couldn’t stop laughing to defend himself.

***

The next morning John woke up to the sound of Sherlock vomiting. He frowned because that was the last thing he wanted to deal with while hungover.  
  
He got out of bed in search of a pain reliever and water, it was also an excuse to check on the other man. “You ok, duck?”  
  
“I’m dying. Too much champagne and wine. This isn’t my eating disorder, this is an atrocious miscalculation on my part.” Sherlock coughed before sitting back. “I actually didn’t want to do that.”  
  
John nodded, “I could actually join you.” He flushed the toilet with out looking. “Do you need anything because I’m about to take something, drink about a gallon of water, and crawl back into bed to sleep the rest of the day?”  
  
“No, I’ll join you in bed in a minute.”  
  
“If this is -”  
  
“It’s really not, I promise. I’m not just saying that.”  
  
John stroked his hand through Sherlock hair, “I’ll meet you in bed.”  
  
Fifteen minutes later they were both wrapped up in the duvet, gingerly holding on to each other. “Why’d we drink so much?” Sherlock whined.  
  
“You were pampering me I think.”  
  
“Ah, right, your birthday.”  
  
“Then there was the extra celebrating for the Nijinsky role.”  
  
“Haven’t got it yet.” Sherlock yawned around the words.  
  
“Mmm, I think you’ll get it.”  
  
“Because you believe in me.”  
  
“Always.”  
  
Sherlock hummed and they were quiet for awhile, “I got you a gift. Should I wait for tomorrow on your actual birthday or would you rather it today?”  
  
“Up to you.”  
  
“I’ll get it in a moment. First, Three Continents Watson?”  
  
John laughed, “Right, I had a reputation in the Army.”  
  
“You shagged someone from three continents or on three?”  
  
“Both.”  
  
“Hmm, explains why you’re so good in bed.”  
  
“Thanks, I think Mr. International Reputation. Now is that for dancing or for being a cocky bastard?”  
  
“Both.” Sherlock smiled against John’s shoulder. “Ok, I’m going to move now, the world seems to have steadied itself.”  
  
“Good luck.” He said as Sherlock slowly moved to the nightstand on his side of the bed. He pulled out a present that was most definitely a book.  
  
“You spent so much at dinner, you didn’t need to get me anything else on top of it.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it.”  
  
John unwrapped the book and laughed, “Ballet for Dummies.”  
  
“I thought you’d enjoy it.”  
  
John laughed, “Thank you, I’ll put it to good use.”  
  
“I know it’s a gag gift but I also know you’ll read it.”  
  
“Cover to cover.” He set the book aside and pulled Sherlock back over to him. “Thank you, this has been the best birthday I’ve celebrated my whole life.”  
  
“That’s surprising.”  
  
John shrugged, “It’s with you so it really shouldn’t be that big of a surprise.”  
  
Sherlock wrapped his arm around him but stayed silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple things:
> 
> 1\. I stumbled upon the Nijinsky ballet while poking around on Youtube for male solo’s and I came across this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JtlgScaCBKQ&app=desktop . It shows how demanding the ballet is on the body. It’s a feature on Guillaume Cote, who is simply amazing.
> 
> 2\. There’s also this article on Nijinsky and it talks about Neumeier a little too: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/theatre-and-performance/at-the-national-ballet-the-tale-of-vaslav-nijinsky-god-of-the-dance/article9205074/ … I thought this ballet was perfect for Sherlock


	18. Relevé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relevé means literally "lifted". Rising from any position to balance on one or both feet on at least demi-pointe which is heels off the floor or higher to full pointe (commonly for girls) where the dancer is actually balancing on the top of the toes, supported in pointe shoes. Smoothly done in some versions, a quick little leap up in other schools.

Sherlock stood in the middle of 221B and took a deep breath, taking in his space. He had been exiled for nearly nine months to his family’s home in the middle of nowhere under very watchful eyes. In that time he had only been to London three times, one of the times did not count because he only went to the studio then back to his flat. He missed London and his missed his flat, not as much as he missed John but it was still a lot.  
  
It had been a week since Mrs Hudson invited him back to dance for Neumeier. After John’s birthday celebrations it was decided that he would move home because he had met all the conditions of his release from John, his parents, nutritionist, and Abigail. He was so excited to sleep in his own bed and have his own things and be able to experiment and see John whenever he fancied.  
  
“Shall we go to dinner?” His father asked after setting the last of Sherlock’s things down in the living room.  
  
“When John gets here, he got stuck on the Tube.” Sherlock picked up two of his bags and went towards his room to unpack.  
  
“Do you need tea, darling?” His mother asked as he passed her in the kitchen.  
  
“Yes, fine.” He went into his room and collapsed on his bed. It still smelt like John and himself from the week before. He needed to change the sheets before John arrived because it was probably unsanitary to be sleeping on them.  
  
Originally he planned to have everything perfect in his flat before John came over but his parents moved at a glacial pace when he had wanted leave earlier. Now he had no chance in getting everything done. He had big plans to ask John to move in with him and he figured that the flat should be at it’s best so John would see it more as some place he would want to live.  
  
Then again John didn’t mind mess so much and his flat had never been clean before. It probably would have looked strange if 221B was clean.  
  
His father’s voice came from the door way, “Are you all right?”  
  
“Yes, I’m just taking a moment to celebrate how happy I am to not be stuck under your thumbs any longer.” Sherlock sat up, leaning on his arms.  
  
“I know, you’re probably very happy to not see us unless we force ourselves into your life somehow.”  
  
He shrugged.  
  
“Right, your mother sent me in here to see where we should go get dinner.”  
  
“We can go wherever you all would like, I don’t like picking. Too many choices.” Sherlock was not sure how people still didn’t understand that he did not like making the decision of where to eat.  
  
“Ok, we’ll ask John when he gets in then.” His father hovered in the door, obviously hesitating to ask Sherlock a question.  
  
“If there’s something that you’d like to ask then will you please ask it? I hate you standing around.”  
  
“Are you going to be ok?”  
  
“I’m not sure, it depends.” He answered honestly.  
  
“Depends on what?”  
  
“On how much I let Jim get to me and on how much I let myself open up to John and continue with therapy.” Sherlock repeated the line Abigail gave him. “I plan on doing those things but I’m not very good at listening to myself, obviously.”  
  
“Good, I hope you do. We’re here too.”  
  
“Mmm, yes, you are.” Sherlock stood up and started to unpack his things.  
  
“Right, ok, I’ll be out with your mother.”  
  
“Fantastic.” Sherlock nodded.  
  
He knew his father was trying hard to be involved in his life but he was still finding it difficult to let him in. He wasn’t trying to shut him out, really, either. It was just difficult to have a relationship with someone who should have been in your life years before.  
  
By the time Sherlock unpacked his things John had arrived and he never got that cup of tea from his mother. That was most likely because his parents were discussing Sherlock out in the living room like he couldn’t hear them.  
  
“I was stuck sitting on the Tube for thirty minutes, I thought I was going to have a bloody panic attack. I hate the idea of being stuck underground.” John said as Sherlock came through the kitchen.  
  
“Are you ok on going out to eat, John?” Sherlock’s mother asked as he came out into the living room. “I wouldn’t want to make you go if you’re not feeling up to it.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’m starving, actually. Hey, duck.” John grinned as Sherlock perched himself on the edge of the arm chair John was in. He rubbed his hand up Sherlock’s back.  
  
“John.” Sherlock suddenly felt oddly nervous about asking the other man to live with him. Being so serious with someone was unimaginable after Jim, he never thought he’d be asking another person to live with him.  
  
“You ok? You look… nervous?” His father asked.  
  
“What? No, I’m happy. Very happy.” 

“Are you worried about starting at the studio again?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Ok…” John cocked his eyebrow. “So, dinner?”  
  
“They’ve insisted.” Sherlock huffed.  
  
“We can leave you alone, if you want.” His mother offered.  
  
“No, let’s go to dinner. Sherlock will be seeing enough of me.”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes as they started to discuss dinner options, finally deciding on Angelo’s because it was close by.  
  
He then suffered through dinner, eating his shrimp and broccoli slowing as John and his parents kept up with their usual small talk. The entire time he was thinking about how he was going to ask John to move in.  
  
Afterwards his parents finally left them alone they decided to go back to the flat instead of going out anywhere. Sherlock was happy about the choice because he didn’t feel like prolonging asking John to move in much longer.  
  
“Want to watch a movie or something?” John asked from the kitchen where he was getting a glass of water.  
  
“I guess.” Sherlock turned the TV on but then abandoned the remote because he had no idea what to put on. “I don’t own many movies and the ones I do have involve dance.”  
  
“I only own the important ones but they’re at my flat.”  
  
“Important ones?”  
  
“James Bond, Star Wars. I’ve got a Doctor Who box set too.”  
  
Sherlock snorted.  
  
“Hey, it’s more than you have. Sorry I’m not as cultured as you are with all your books on every single topic and documentaries on ballet and albums of classical music.” John joined him on the sofa, putting his arm over Sherlock’s shoulders.  
  
He just laughed and slouched down into John because he knew the other man did enjoy those things.  
  
“You’re not going to make fun of me?”  
  
“I’m thinking about it but I think I’ll just be nice tonight.” He leaned up and captured John’s lips with his. Kissing was a much better idea than teasing John for the moment.  
  
“Mmm, I’m so happy you’re going to be back here.” John said, pulling away for a breath. “I was getting kind of tired of taking the train up to Cambridge every other weekend.”  
  
“You didn’t have to.” Sherlock pulled John back in to kiss him more but John sat back.  
  
“I know that I didn’t have to, I wanted to.” John shook his head. “I would have missed you too much if I didn’t, video chatting isn’t the same as being able to be with you. Plus, I got a lot of reading done on the train.”  
  
Sherlock took a deep breath, figuring now was the perfect time to ask, “Would you… I don’t know if this is a good time to ask but… would you like to not have to commute at all to see me?”  
  
John sat straight up, causing Sherlock to do the same, “Are you asking me to move in with you?”  
  
“Is it too soon? If so, forget I asked.”  
  
“Too soon? No, god, no, it’s perfect. I just didn’t think you’d want me around because you’re finally going to be alone. I don’t want to suffocate you.”  
  
Sherlock cleared his throat, “Well, I don’t feel like being alone… at least… ah, not with you around. I don’t want to be alone. You don’t suffocate me either, you give me plenty of space. So much it is almost strange to me at times.”  
  
“Can we give it until September? My lease it over then.” John reached over for Sherlock’s hand.  
  
Sherlock nodded, sitting back, away from John. He was a bit confused because he thought John had alluded to saying yes without actually saying yes to it. It would have been much better if he had just said no.  
  
“Hey, that’s not a no. I think it will be good for you to have these few months, you should have some time to yourself. It’s only two months, exactly two months. You know we’re going to end up spending nearly every night together anyway.” John assured him.  
  
“It might be nice to be alone for sometime.” He considered. Sherlock did miss having a house to himself.  
  
“Good but as soon as my lease is up I’m moving here.” John grabbed the remote with his free hand. “You’re going to have to make some room in the wardrobe, you clothes horse.”  
  
Sherlock poked his side, “I’ll be sure to clear a small space for your extensive DVD collection as well.”  
  
“I’m more worried about fitting my clothes in. Adding to the clutter of this house too…”  
  
“I do not have clutter. All of my things are useful and have served a purpose or serve a purpose.”  
  
“You have so much stuff.” John laughed. “I love the stuff, I just don’t know where to put my stuff.”  
  
“That’s the things that we figure out when the time comes, right?”  
  
“Right and I’m looking forward to it.” John settled on a channel. “You’re going to hate me but at work -”  
  
“Ugh.”  
  
“No, I want to keep it professional. You’re not allowed to kiss me or touch me or hold my hand until we’re out of the studios.”  
  
“You have to touch me!”  
  
“When I work on you. I just want to have some boundaries between our work life and our home life.”  
  
“Fine.” Sherlock agreed, reluctantly.  
  
“Good.” John shifted closer to him, “Shall we just make out like we’re teenagers and not really watch a movie?”  
  
“I’m sure you already know my answer.” Sherlock moved to straddle John.

***

“Are you sure your knee is good?” John asked while stretching Sherlock Monday morning.

Since the season was over most of the other dancers were away, taking holidays and such so it was just Sherlock, Irene, Lestrade, and John in the room.  
  
“I’m positive, John, I had plenty of time to let it heal.”  
  
“Yeah, right, you were dancing every bloody day when you were gone I’d bet.” Irene was just sitting on the table waiting for Sherlock to be done so they could work on some pas de deux.  
  
“Oh, yeah, he was.” John pushed Sherlock’s leg up. “Even though he was told to rest it up. We never got those x-rays.”  
  
Sherlock waved a hand, “Because it stopped being a bother.”  
  
“I feel like you’re lying.”  
  
“I’m not.” He actually wasn’t. His knee had stopped being annoyance months ago.  
  
“It’s official!” Mrs Hudson came in with a big smile on her face. “Neumeier is bringing Nijinsky to The Royal Ballet!”  
  
Sherlock could feel himself grinning, “Excellent!” He’d been studying up on the ballet since the week before in preparation.  
  
“He says that it’s between you and Jim.” Sherlock had knew that already. Jim was always going to be his competitor, no matter what. The only thing he hoped for was that he was going to be better and stronger than Jim.  
  
“Perfect.” He grabbed John’s face and kissed him.  
  
“Sherlock! Boundaries!” John practically squeaked.  
  
“Sorry, I just got very excited.” He jumped off the table and everyone else in the room was laughing while John blushed. “I’ve got work to do.”  
  
“Are you even done stretching?” John caught his wrist.  
  
“Yes, stop worrying.”  
  
“It’s his job, you know. Both personally and professionally so I don’t think you all have to worry about boundaries for that one.” Irene reminded Sherlock.  
  
“I’m stretched. Come on, Irene, we need to work.”  
  
“Don’t over work it, you’ve got plenty of time to get it right.”  
  
Sherlock scoffed, he didn’t want to get his audition piece right, he wanted to get it perfect. He wanted to crush Jim.


	19. Fouetté

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fouetté means "whipped". The term indicates either a turn with a quick change in the direction of the working leg as it passes in front of or behind the supporting leg, or a quick whipping around of the body from one direction to another. There are many kinds of fouetté: petit fouetté (à terre, en demi-pointe or sauté) and grand fouetté (sauté, relevé or en tournant). Similar to a frappe. An introductory form for beginner dancers, executed at the barre is as follows: facing the barre, the dancer executes a grand battement to the side, then turns the body so that the lifted leg ends up in arabesque.

“And that’s it.” John shut the wardrobe. “It actually all fit. Took some work, but we did it.” He was officially all moved in to Sherlock’s, aside from a few odd things. He had been bringing his stuff over box by box the last few weeks.  
  
“Mmm.” Sherlock was looking through John’s chest. He kept things from the military and uni in it. “You were serious with Bill?” He looked up from the journal he had in his hand. “What happened?”  
  
“Sherlock, do you really need to read that?”  
  
“No, but it’s engrossing. I’m not sure why because grammatically it’s horrid and you jump all over the place. You use a lot of hyperbole too.”  
  
“It’s a private bloody journal.”  
  
Sherlock tossed it back in the chest, “Well, what happened with him?”  
  
“Yes, we were sort of serious but he had a girl back home that he was on and off with. I didn’t want to get in between that.”  
  
“Admirable, of course.”  
  
“Are you jealous?” John teased, sitting next to Sherlock on the floor.  
  
“No, I just realized I’ve never asked you about your past partners.”  
  
“Well, there was the Three Continents Watson.”  
  
“You just told me that you were known for sleeping around, I never thought of your serious relationships. That’s strange, isn’t it? We’ve been together for almost a year.”  
  
“Not really together, kind of a strange situation.” John shrugged. “I don’t think it’s strange though, it just wasn’t your priority.”  
  
“Hmm, true. Did you stop sleeping with people because of Bill?”  
  
“I guess, yeah, I loved him. Or I thought I loved him.” John shut the chest and pushed it under Sherlock’s bed.  
  
“You stopped loving him?”  
  
“I didn’t love him enough to stay with him.”  
  
“What if he didn’t have a girlfriend?”  
  
“Then I would have stayed with him then I would have met you and realized I didn’t know a damn thing about really loving someone.” John answered honestly. He knew Sherlock hated grand declarations for the the most part when it came to their relationship but it was true. He’d never loved anyone the way he loved Sherlock.  
  
“Honestly?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”  
  
“As of right now, yeah, I do.”  
  
Sherlock smiled, almost shyly.  
  
“Are you ok with that?”  
  
“I asked you to move in with me, what do you think?”  
  
“I’d say you’re all right with it.” He laughed.  
  
“You’d be very right.” Sherlock kissed John’s cheek. “Is this really all your things? They barely seem to make much of an impact.”  
  
“I just don’t have much.”  
  
“True, you left your parents home, moved to a dormitory, and then you went into the army.”  
  
“Didn’t collect too much a long the way.” John sighed.  
  
“Well, you can start collecting things now. I hope you won’t be moving along anytime soon.”  
  
“You have enough things for the both of us but I’ll keep it in mind.”  
  
“Very good then.”  
  
The dancer stood up from the floor. “We need to go pick up our suits from the tailors.” Sherlock had convinced John to let him buy him a new suit for Mrs Hudson’s charity gala this year.  
  
“You seem excited about it this year.”  
  
“Yes, I get to show you off.” Sherlock grinned and John felt something warm in his stomach.  
  
“It’s work though, isn’t it?”  
  
Sherlock was on the edge of a strop. John thought it was amazing how the man could spiral into one in at the drop of a hat.  
  
“I’m just saying, we’re going to be surrounded by colleagues and stuff. I think we should decide that.”  
  
“You’re so tedious sometimes.”  
  
“Is that the way you should talk to your new live-in boyfriend?” John sighed and got himself up.  
  
“I’m just telling you the truth. You’re my plus one, it’s a date.”  
  
“That’s not fair, really, because I was invited separately.”  
  
“You’re just arguing for arguing’s sake.” Sherlock pointed at John.  
  
John pulled Sherlock over my his belt loops, “You like arguing.”  
  
“I do but this is a frustratingly stupid conversation.” Sherlock stood tall, trying to avoid making eye contact with John.  
  
“I’ll be your date tomorrow. By the way, I’d be showing you off, you’re the pretty young one.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“How much time do we have before we need to go to the tailors?” John asked as he popped open one of Sherlock’s button.  
  
“None, if we don’t leave now we’ll have to pick up them up tomorrow. I don’t know when we’ll do that between working and having to get ready for the gala. You’ll be very angry if we’re not on time.”  
  
“True.” John sighed and let go of Sherlock.  
  
“See what happens when you get worked up in fake arguments. You need to pick the right time and place.” Sherlock smirked before turning away from John. “Let’s go. You can pick an argument with me when we come back.”

***

“Not sure how you’ll possibly handle the work, you just had to take a year off from the stage.” Jim said from the table that Greg was giving him a massage on Friday afternoon.  
  
“I’m very good a mental breakdowns, aren’t I John? I’ll be able to bring a realness to the role. Then again anyone would bring realness with the exception of you because you have no heart.” Sherlock said from the chair his was sitting in, waiting for John to be done with Sally.  
  
“Certainly bring a certain size to the role - ow fuck, Lestrade, I do need my knee.”  
  
“Sorry, wasn’t paying attention.”  
  
John bit his lip to keep from laughing. He looked up at Sherlock, just to make sure that he was feeling all right. Sherlock was staring at his phone blankly, looking almost bored with the whole thing. He wasn’t sure if the blankness was a good or bad thing.  
  
“Yes, I do bring a certain size, this is the best shape I’ve been in, in a long time.” Sherlock tucked his phone in his pocket. “Did you know, Jim, that it’s not on to talk about a person who suffers from anorexia’s weight?”  
  
John had his back to him but he was sure that Jim was doing a very good impersonation of a goldfish because he didn’t come back with a quick and witty (and evil) retort. John felt very smug for a moment.  
  
“All set, Sally.” John smiled at her then looked back to Sherlock. “Ready?”  
  
“I’m just waiting for you to be done with the day. I don’t have any aliments to speak of today.”  
  
“You could have headed home without me.”  
  
“Commute’s boring alone.” Sherlock sighed, looking impatient. “Are you done now?”  
  
“Yeah, just give me a few minutes to clean up.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Thankfully it was quiet from Jim and Sherlock as John went to finish up for the day.  
  
As soon as John cleaned up Sherlock and him left to take the Tube home. Sherlock hated taking transportation with other people but John said it was a waste of money to take cabs everywhere.  
  
“You all right?” John asked after they got off at Baker Street.  
  
“You’re referring to what Jim said, I assume?” Sherlock asked as they ascended the stairs to the street.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I’m fine.” He said quickly. John wasn’t so convinced. “I’m healthy.”  
  
“I know, I just don’t want you to be unhealthy again because Jim said something.” He grabbed the dancer’s hand when they got to the street.  
  
“He’s been saying things to me everyday.” Sherlock revealed.  
  
“You haven’t told me that.” He squeezed Sherlock’s hand.  
  
“I didn’t need to.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Yes, John, I’m sure.” He snapped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I needed to tell you everything.”  
  
“I know you’ve been working hard and you’re stressed about the Nijinsky audition but you don’t have to talk to me like that.” John dropped Sherlock’s hand. “I just want to make sure you’re ok.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, “I apologize.”  
  
“I know you’re healthy Sherlock, but that doesn’t mean you’re feeling ok.”  
  
Sherlock just nodded, “I’ll feel better when you stop talking.”  
  
John took a deep breath because he didn’t want to yell at Sherlock. He knew there was a delicate balance for Sherlock’s emotions. He needed to handle this the right way so that Sherlock’s balance didn’t swing the wrong way.  
  
Back at the flat Sherlock went to shower and get ready for the night while John made dinner because the gala was just all appetizers. He made something light, hopping that Sherlock wouldn’t point out that he only did because of what Jim had said earlier.  
  
“If you made anything lighter, it’d be floating.” Sherlock commented on the soup and salad on the table as he sat down in his robe, fresh from the shower.  
  
“Just sticking to your binders.” John sat down with him.  
  
“How nice of you.” He muttered.  
  
“Can we check the attitude at the door for the rest of the night? You were excited yesterday about bringing me to the gala as your date.”  
  
“That was before you started to annoy me.” Sherlock stabbed his fork into a few pieces of lettuce.  
  
“I’m sorry I love you and I’m concerned about how you’re doing. I’m not suffocating you. I give you your space.”  
  
The other man just ate silently.  
  
When John was nearly done, “I’m just going to stay home tonight.”  
  
“You have to come with me.”  
  
“I have to? Sherlock, you’re angry with me right now. Why do I want to go be miserable tonight?” He started to clean up the dishes.  
  
“You’re just going sit around and sulk?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
Sherlock clenched his jaw, “You’re being stupid.”  
  
“Sherlock! I don’t understand what I did to make you angry with me. I’m annoying you, you say, so I’m going to give you your space.” John dumped the dishes in the sink.  
  
“I can’t go alone, I need you there. People will be asking what’s going on and I don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
“What is going on?”  
  
“You’re being dumb.”  
  
John tried to relax himself but ended up dropping a glass too hard, shattering it in the sink, “Bloody hell. Just go get dressed, Sherlock.”  
  
“Are you going?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Fine.” Sherlock marched off to the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.  
  
John cleaned up, hoping Sherlock wasn’t kneeling in front of the toilet.  
  
Twenty minutes later Sherlock came back out in his suit while John was sitting on the sofa trying to watch telly. John was still angry with him so he tried not to think about how good he looked.  
  
“I’m off now.” Sherlock cleared his throat, standing in John’s view of the TV.  
  
“That’s nice.”  
  
“You need to come with me.”  
  
“I don’t need to do anything.”  
  
Sherlock pouted, “John, stop.”  
  
“No, you stop.”  
  
“What do I need to do to make you stop acting this way?”  
  
“What do you think I need to do?”  
  
Sherlock out a strange irritated sighing sound, “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Yeah, that was sincere.” John shook his head.  
  
“John, we’re going to be late.”  
  
“You’re going to be late.”  
  
“You RSVP’ed to Mrs Hudson’s invitation, it will be impolite. You hate being impolite.”  
  
“Tell her I’m not feeling well.”  
  
“I’m eating and I’m not purging. I am calculating calories in my head and thinking about my weight and BMI but I try to stop it. Jim is still getting to me but I’m trying to not let him in. I’m standing up to him now. I’ve talked to Abigail about all this. Are you satisfied?”  
  
John wasn’t sure what to say, “Why didn’t you just tell me that earlier?”  
  
Sherlock shrugged, “I guess I’m still not used to having someone who isn't a therapist to talk to when I’m feeling this way.”  
  
“I don’t want to be nosey, I just want to know you’re all right. This role’s going to be hard and I know you’re going to battle for that position. I know that Jim’s a fucking asshole too.”  
  
“I thought that Lestrade did something to his knee earlier.”  
  
“We’d all be so happy.”  
  
“I’d like to beat him fair and square without anyone breaking his knee caps.”  
  
“You will.” John smiled.  
  
“Can you get ready now? I apologize for acting like I did.”  
  
“Ok.” John stood up.  
  
“We’re going to be late now.”  
  
“Fashionably late, right?” John stopped to peck his cheek on his way by.  
  
“Right.” Sherlock caught John by the wrist. “It’s hard for you to pretend you’re mad at me when you find me so attractive. It’s all over your face, you have a horrible poker face.”  
  
“Not the right time, Sherlock.” John scoffed. “And by the way, I can still be mad at you even if I find you attractive.”  
  
“Oh.” Sherlock said as John walked away.  
  
“Call a cab, I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

***

Going to Mrs Hudson’s gala was a lot easier this year than the one before. Even though they had just had a row, he was going with Sherlock Holmes. He was probably the envy of all the women and some of the men in the room. This year Sherlock wasn’t getting plastered either and he didn’t need to go running after him into the street to make sure that he wasn’t going to accidentally kill himself.  
  
“Care to dance?” Sherlock came over and interrupted the conversation he was having with Greg and Molly.  
  
“Really?” John laughed.  
  
“Honestly John, you should take advantage of me being a trophy boyfriend more often.” Sherlock placed his hand on John’s lower back. “I thought we decided this was a date thing, not a work thing.”  
  
“All right, let’s go.”  
  
John let Sherlock lead him into the middle of the dance floor, “It’s a waltz.”  
  
“Show me how to do that again? I forget.”  
  
“Obviously.”  
  
Once John got comfortable he looked around and noticed many of the other dancers looking their way, “They’re jealous.” Sherlock grinned.  
  
“They should be.”  
  
“You’re less aggravated with me.”  
  
“It’s wearing off. I can only be so mad about that topic for so long.”  
  
“Good because my audition is coming up, I only need so much stress.”  
  
“I know. You’ll be fine, duck. If you need anything, I’ll be there.”  
  
“I’ll have to remember that.”


	20. Glissade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glissade means literally, a glide. This is a traveling step starting in fifth position with demi-plié: the front foot moves out to a point, both legs briefly straighten as weight is shifted onto the pointed foot, and the other foot moves in to meet the first. A glissade can be en avant, en arrière, dessous, and dessus; start in fifth position plie, push off back foot moving the front foot forward and bringing the back foot that you pushed off on in the front landing in fifth position.

Sherlock stood in front of the mirror and pinched the skin on his stomach. Jim had said earlier in the day he had put on even more weight. He had recently weighed himself and was the same weight he had been two weeks before. Maybe it was very recent?  
  
 _It’s just skin. You’re being stupid. It’s just skin. You know you’re healthy. Everyone is happy with you but Jim. John says you’re beautiful but he’d say that if you weighed a lot more, wouldn’t he? He can be a bit unreliable._  
  
“Hey, I’m heading home.” John’s voice echoed in the empty studio. Sherlock spun around to look at him, hoping John didn’t see him pinching his skin. He didn’t want to have that conversation.  
  
“Auditions are in four days.”  
  
“I know.” John frowned. “You look good Sherlock.”  
  
Sherlock ignored him and went to the barre.  
  
“Ok, I’ll see you at home. Preference on dinner?”  
  
He shook his head and took fist position.  
  
“See you later then, duck.”  
  
Sherlock nodded as John left him.  
  
Auditions for Nijinsky were not something that he should have been so worried about according to Abigail because they could destroy everything he had worked for over the last months. She was right because he was stressed to the point of making himself sick… well wanting to make himself sick because somedays he really wanted to. He hadn’t though because he was managing to keep himself somewhat in reality. John seemed to have a lot to do with that.  
  
Jim was not allowed to defeat him in anyway this time around. Sherlock had downloaded as many of the versions of the ballet that he could so he would be able to study them. He read up on Neumeier to know what exactly he was looking for. Basically he was looking for Sherlock Holmes at his best.  
 Sherlock Holmes at his best meant eating and not letting Jim under his skin. He just needed to manage a few more days without spiraling out of control.  
  
After spending two more hours in the studio he finally went home to John. Living with him for about a week now was nice… if they were being realistic then they had been living together for a few months but John did not ‘officially’ move in until the week before.

It was the best feeling waking up to him and just having him around. John was very grounding but Sherlock was still having a difficult time letting him be involved no matter how good it was to have him there.  
  
Sherlock came up behind John, who was washing the dishes, and nuzzled his neck. “Hello.”  
  
“Hi.” He pressed his lips to the skin nearest to him. “Sorry I didn’t eat with you.”  
  
“It’s fine.” John turned around in his arms. “You worked too long today.”  
  
“I know but I just need it to be perfect.”  
  
“It will be. You know, if you over work it you could cause yourself a mental block?” He put his wet hands up Sherlock’s shirt, lightly stroking his sides.  
  
“That’s not really comforting to me.” He let out a shaky breath.  
  
“I’m just saying, you need to relax.”  
  
“I’m trying but it’s difficult.”  
  
“Cut back on the studio time some. You’re perfect as it is, love.”  
  
“I need to get it right but I’ll keep what you’re saying in mind.”  
  
“We’re going to do something this weekend.” John declared.  
  
“You’ve got a rugby match on.”  
  
“No, I was thinking something nice.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“Good.” John kissed him quickly. “How about you eat, shower, and then I give you a massage? God knows you’re over working your body.”  
  
“That is why I am dating a physiotherapist.”  
  
“The free massages?” John chuckled as he detached himself from Sherlock.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“It’s somewhat nice to be used.”  
  
“I would never use you.” Sherlock grabbed John by the hips, pulling him close again. “Never.”  
  
“I know but I don’t mind you using me for my massages… as long as I get something back in return.” John squeezed Sherlock arse.  
  
“Ah, I see how it is.”  
  
“No, go on and eat so we can get on with the rest of the night because you still need a good nights sleep before going in tomorrow.”  
  
“Takes a lot of energy to deal with Jim.” Sherlock muttered.  
  
“It takes me a lot of energy, I can’t imagine how you feel.” John let him go after kissing him quickly.  
  
Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh because he couldn’t even put it into words how much it took.

***

After two more days of hard rehearsals and side work Sherlock was forced to take Sunday off because John said that he was going to be treated to a ‘Sherlock Day’. He had no idea what that meant but he went with it because John was genuinely excited over the whole thing.  
  
“Part one of your day, breakfast in bed.” John sat down, carefully putting the tray on the bed. It consisted of scrambled eggs, toast, yogurt with granola, tea, an orange, and a bowl of strawberries.  
  
“There’s different parts to the day?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Can you tell me them?”  
  
“Nope, surprises, I like surprising you.” John plucked a strawberry from the bowl.  
  
“How many parts are there?”  
  
John thought a moment, tilting his head and licking his lips quickly to the side like he normally did in thought. Sherlock found it endearing. “Five… well six because I know you’ll count that as a part.”  
  
“That?”  
  
“Sex.”  
  
Sherlock laughed and started to eat his breakfast.  
  
John was obviously on a schedule because he wouldn’t let Sherlock lie about in bed after he finished eating. As soon as they were done they had to get dressed and ready to go to the second part of the Sherlock Day.  
  
They took the Tube to Kew Gardens, one of Sherlock’s favorites spots in the city. They couldn’t be there long according to John but they had enough time to have a good look around. Sherlock brought John to his favorite green houses; which were the Water Lily House, Palm House and Rose Garden, and the Princess of Wales Conservatory.  
  
“These here are carnivorous.” Sherlock pointed to the nepenthes in the Princess of Wales Conservatory.  
  
“You like plants that eat things.” John chuckled as he looked at the plant.  
  
“Ironic isn’t it because I can barely eat my own food?”  
  
“That’s not why I laughed.” John shrugged, “It’s cool. You like weird things and I like that about you. You would never know that you’re a posh dancer sometimes.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
John nodded, “I’ve seen you in goggles dissecting an eye. I still don’t know where or how you got an eye but it’s not a normal thing you walk in and see your boyfriend doing. It’s not something you’d think someone like you would be doing in your spare time too.”  
  
“What should I be doing?”  
  
“Playing your violin, going to operas, swaning about…”  
  
“I do all those things.”  
  
“But you do a lot more too.” John checked his watch. “We need to get going.”  
  
“Where to?”  
  
“You’ll see.” John grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the exit.

***

“Thank you for coming to Mrs Carter’s production of the ballet The Ugly Duckling. Our kids have worked very hard on this, I hope you enjoy!” Sherlock looked around the tiny theater in a community center.  
  
“John, why are we here?” He whispered.  
  
“Shh, it’s starting.” John patted his arm then pointed to the stage.  
  
Generally the performance was terrible but Sherlock understood why John had taken him there. He wanted to show Sherlock what it was like for children who enjoyed the ballet and that it could be fun.  
  
“You’re always bringing in meaning to things, John.” Sherlock said after they finished clapping.  
  
“Just wanted to remind you what it was like as a kid.”  
  
“This is not the elite school that my mother sent me to.” Sherlock said as he put on his coat.  
  
“But still.”  
  
“Mum! Mum! It’s Sherlock Holmes!”  
  
Sherlock looked up to see the little boy who had played The Ugly Duckling was pointing at him from the front row.  
  
“We should go.” Sherlock looked to John.  
  
“No, no, stay.” John held his arm as the boy ran over to them, with his mother trailing behind. “We’ve got a bit of a gap.”  
  
“You are my favorite dancer, Mr Holmes!” He bounced on the balls of his feet.  
  
“I’m so sorry.” His mother said.  
  
“It’s fine.” John smiled.  
  
“I’m your favorite dancer?” Sherlock asked again.  
  
“Yeah! You’re like the best. Mum took me to see you in the Three Musketeers! I want to be just like you when I grow up.”  
  
Sherlock just smiled because he knew John would object to him saying that would upset the child.  
  
“What’s your name?”  
  
“Andrew! Who’s this?” He looked at John.  
  
“He’s my best friend, John.”  
  
“Cool! Do you think Mr Holmes is a good dancer?”  
  
“The best.” John grinned at the child.  
  
“How long have you been dancing?”  
  
“Since I was four… I’m seven now.”  
  
“I started at four as well.” Sherlock nodded. “So you’re on the same path.”  
  
“Mum, he’s nice. You said he wouldn’t be!”  
  
Sherlock couldn’t help himself from laughing when the Andrew’s mother blushed.  
  
“What are you doing here Mr Holmes?”  
  
“To prep for auditions Sherlock likes to remind himself of his past.” John answered. He surprised Sherlock because he was normally terrible at lying.  
  
“Whoa, cool! What are you auditioning for? Is it with The Royal Ballet? I was sad because you didn’t dance last year. Mum said she’d take me to see you again.”  
  
“Yes, I’m going to be auditioning for the lead role in Nijinsky. Do you know of Nijinsky?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You should look into him. He was the greatest male dancer, ever.”  
  
“I think you’re the greatest male dancer ever.”  
  
Sherlock wasn’t sure what to say.  
  
“We shouldn’t be keeping you much longer.”  
  
“But mum!”  
  
“They’re probably very busy.”  
  
“We are but I could sign something or take a photo with you.”  
  
“Both, please, Mr Holmes.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
After taking the picture and signing Andrew’s shoes Sherlock and John left the community theater.  
  
“That was sweet.” John nudged him.  
  
“I figured you’d want me to be nice to this child.”  
  
“You just made his day. He met his idol and his idol was nice to him. That’s something that will stick with the kid.”  
  
Sherlock shrugged.  
  
“You make people that happy when you dance, you know, just remember that.”  
  
Sherlock nodded, “Where to now?”  
  
“Home to change because we have sometime between parts.”

***

At around six they were standing center stage at Covent Garden.  
  
“Why are we here?”  
  
“For the stage.” John went stage right for a moment to the wings then came back with shoes and track pants. “I pulled some strings. Well, your strings, really. I told your mum about what I wanted to do and she told Mrs Hudson and Mrs Hudson came to me.”  
  
Sherlock took off his dress shoes. He had thought they were going to be going to a movie then dinner when he had got dressed.  
  
“Why don’t you show me what you got?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What’s your audition piece? I want to see what you’ve been working so hard on.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Sherlock stripped down and changed into the track pants. John must have taken them from his locker at the school.  
  
He danced his part for John, as well as he wanted to dance the part for the audition.  
  
“Perfect.”  
  
“How would you know?” Sherlock laughed after finishing.  
  
“I don’t know, I could feel you wanted it. I could see it all over you.”  
  
“If you say.”  
  
“I say. Now get changed so I don’t shag you right here and we can go to dinner.”  
  
“That’s a bit of a fantasy for me.”  
  
“Shagging me in the middle of a stage… I hope it’s an empty theater.”  
  
“Yes it is.”  
  
“I’m fine with that then.”  
  
“Good, I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”  
  
“Not tonight, I have reservations. Plus, security is going to kick us out soon to shut the place down.”  
  
Sherlock was never going to understand how John could love him and care for him so much.

***

The audition went as well as Sherlock wanted it to go. John’s day of relaxation seemed to have done the trick to get him to be calm. He felt one hundred precent better than he did the last time he went up for a part. He couldn’t even hear Jim’s voice in his head because he was focused on the right things.  
  
Jim said that he had the best audition of his life as well so Sherlock was left to worry about it the rest of the week. John reassured Sherlock that the other man was probably just saying that to get to him.  
  
On Friday the roles were posted and Sherlock nearly fainted when he saw that he got the role of Nijinsky.  
  
He ran up to the physiosuite where John was chatting with Lestrade and practically tackled him, “I got it!”  
  
“Sherlock!” John braced himself against the wall for impact.  
  
“I got it! Nijinsky, it’s mine!”  
  
“I knew you’d do it, I’m so happy for you but you’re going to have to get off of me for now.” John hugged him but then let him go.  
  
Sherlock did as John said.  
  
“We’ll celebrate tonight, dinner?”  
  
“Yes and dancing.”  
  
John nodded, “Ok, plan.”  
  
Sherlock glided his way to the studio for a class.

***

“I’m so proud of you.” John kissed Sherlock’s shoulder. “So proud.”  
  
They never made it out of the flat when they got home that night. Instead they ordered in and spent the entire night in bed, with the exception of getting up to get the take away.  
  
“Mmm, you’ve showed me three times how proud.”  
  
“I’m done for the night.” John chuckled. “But tomorrow I can show you more.”  
  
“Three times was more than enough. I mean, not that I didn’t appreciate it…”  
  
“I know what you’re trying to say.” John rested his head on Sherlock’s chest. “I’m glad you’re happy and healthy.”  
  
“I am too.” Sherlock carded his fingers through John’s hair. “Do you know the best part of this?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Jim’s leaving.”  
  
John looked up to Sherlock in surprise, “Seriously? Are you having me on?”  
  
“No, seriously. He was complaining and said that he can go dance in Moscow. I don’t know what part but it doesn’t matter. He’s leaving.”  
  
“Hopefully never coming back.”  
  
“Hopefully.”  
  
After a very long pause, “This has been a very strange year for me.”  
  
“Me as well, John.”  
  
“Ended up pretty damn good, hasn’t it?”  
  
“I would say say so.”  
  
Sherlock smiled and held on to John.


	21. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coda means "tail". As in music, a Coda is a passage which brings a movement or a separate piece to a conclusion.
> 
> In ballet, the coda is usually the "Finale", a set of dances known as the Grand Pas or Grand Pas d'action and brings almost all the dancers onto the stage.

“We’re going to be late.” Violet looked at her watch.  
  
“We’ve got plenty of time.” Siger assured her.  
  
“She’s always twenty-minutes early, we’re going to be ten.” Mycroft informed Siger as they entered Covent Garden.  
  
“I just don’t like rushing.”  
  
John dug in his pockets for his ticket with the Holmes chatting behind him.  
  
“You’re being quiet, John.” Violet commented.  
  
“I’m nervous, is that weird?”  
  
“No, I’m always nervous before he goes on stage.” She smiled at him as he handed his ticket to the ticket-taker.  
  
“It’s weird. I shouldn’t be the nervous one, he’s the one being watched by all these people.” John shifted the roses he was holding to his other hand.  
  
“That’s love for you, John, it’s makes you feel and do strange things.” Siger laughed.  
  
“Just wait til you see him, he’s amazing. He always is.” She patted John’s back.  
  
They found their seats and settled in for the show.

John had texted Sherlock to ‘break a leg’ earlier and got back one saying:

> Actually it's merde for dancers, John. Either way it's terribly cliché. -SH

Before he knew it the curtain was going up and Sherlock was standing center stage.

***

After they were standing in the front hall waiting for Sherlock, “That was brilliant, I can’t believe he’s so good.” John shook his head.  
  
“So much better in person.” Siger commented as someone grabbed John from behind.  
  
“Duck, that was so fantastic!” John spun around and grinned at Sherlock who just answered with a big kiss. He wrapped his arms around him tight.  
  
“That’s the best I’ve seen you do, ever.” Violet said over John’s shoulder.  
  
Sherlock finally let him go, “Yes, it was, wasn’t it?” He took the roses from John. “Did you go for all the cliches tonight?”  
  
“I tried very hard.” John took his hand.  
  
John looked down at their hands and felt his smile grow wider.  
  
“Good job, love.” Irene said as she approached. “Don’t let go of this one.” She pointed at John.  
  
“As if I’d let him.” John laughed.  
  
“Smart one, you are John. By the way, take a look at his right wrist, he fell funny on it and then made a face later.”  
  
“I did not make a face, you were seeing things.”  
  
John lifted his arm, “What kind of pain is it?”  
  
“I thought we had a work and home life separation.” Sherlock protested.  
  
“Not when you injure yourself.”  
  
Sherlock scoffed.  
  
“I just want to make sure you’re ok.”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, “You’re going to be saying that the rest of my life.”  
  
“Hopefully.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I’m very proud of this fic and so happy to see so much positive response to it.
> 
>  
> 
>  This also is not the end of this ‘verse for me. I have some more stories I’d like to write for it so keep an eye out.


End file.
